Summary: On the outset of a dangerous but potentially lucrative expedition, Garrick and Martin didn't expect troubles to befall them so soon. By a secluded area, they're kidnapped by a giant lady who calls herself their Mommy and designates them her slaves, and is confident that soon enough, during their captivity, the two of them will learn to do so as well.
Categories: Entrapment,
Fantasy,
Feet,
Footwear,
Humiliation,
Insertion,
Slave Characters: None
Growth: Brobdnignagian (51 ft. to 100 ft.)
Shrink: None
Size Roles: F/m
Warnings: Following story may contain inappropriate material for certain audiences
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 11
Completed: Yes
Word count: 19396
Read: 35538
Published: September 30 2022
Updated: June 18 2023
1. Chapter 1 by StoryTeller
2. Chapter 2 by StoryTeller
3. Chapter 3 by StoryTeller
4. Chapter 4 by StoryTeller
5. Chapter 5 by StoryTeller
6. Chapter 6 by StoryTeller
7. Chapter 7 by StoryTeller
8. Chapter 8 by StoryTeller
9. Chapter 9 by StoryTeller
10. Chapter 10 by StoryTeller
11. Chapter 11 by StoryTeller
Garrick and Martin trudged through the roadless woods, crinkling through
the bushes and tree saplings. As cumbersome as it was, especially with their
laden rucksacks, there weren’t many alternatives when one was headed for Eron, the
massive peninsula jutting out of the continent of Gharn, uninhabited by humans.
As infamous as it was for its dangers, it was abundant with precious natural
resources, not a stranger to the brave scavengers who made the lucrative
ventures therein. And among them Garrick and Martin would be.
Garrick and Martin were mages, both twenty-two years of age, on the
younger end of those who scavenged Eron. It would be their first expedition.
Garrick had his brown hair tied into a tiny bun behind him, a tall and gangly
stature, while Martin was shorter with a round face and close-cropped hair.
They both wore brown jackets and breeches with ankle-high leather boots,
striking a balance between durable and agile.
“Imagine a good, first score,” Garrick said, a small clearing allowing
his attention to drift to the skies. “A pound of glowshrooms is worth three
horses, you know, and glowshrooms are the easier pickings in Eron.”
“I know.” Martin held out a cautionary palm. “Though I’d like not to
think about it yet. It’s dangerous. The forest of the giant pixies is first at
the southeastern border, and they saw that whenever a scavenger gets picked by
the pixies, they’re never seen again.”
“Alright, buddy, we don’t need the horror stories.”
“Not sure if it’s a horror.” Martin wore a smug smile as he lumbered
onwards. “Pixies don’t kill you, they just enslave you. Lovely, winged, and
large naked ladies enslaving you, that’s a dream to some.”
Garrick looked at him askance. “And does this ‘some’ include you? I fear
you’ll go and cast yourself into their arms, when we’re supposed to sneak
through.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m joking.” Near a mountain range, the ground was
rarely level, and again the larch trees dipped down with a slope. About fifty
feet down, they saw the ledge of a basin, and to the waterfront they went.
A vast bank of grass spread before the water, prickled with weeds and
dandelions. A large waterfall crashed into the basin, pouring down the mountain
which, within the woods, had been shrouded by the packed larch trees. A
shoulder of the mountain stretched in around the basin, cupping the body of
water, and behind it a valley cut through the cliffs and into the mountains.
Near the shoulder of stone they settled, sparing their necks and backs from the
rucksacks. They ate a lunch of hoecakes and a handful of walnuts, washing it
down with a few gulps of cherry cordial.
Garrick patted the increasing emptiness of their rucksacks. “Imagine
these being filled with crystal flowers and glowshrooms on the way back.”
Martin shook his head. “Save the celebrations for when we’ve got
something in our hands. The way we’re loitering about here, that’ll never work
in Eron. In fact, we should be focused right now. Before we left Drelten, I
caught some rumors at the local inn of humans disappearing around these
mountains.”
“They probably headed into Eron, where the dangers are known, and didn’t
return.”
Martin shrugged. “They weren’t scavengers, just ordinary people.”
“You’re in love with your creepy tales, aren’t you? Try focusing on not
daydreaming about pixies instead.” Garrick picked up his rucksack and informed
his friend of an area with shallower water ahead, where he’d seen fresh
watercress. Garrick went to pick some, bringing his rucksack with him.
There, a shallow pool stretched out like a wobbly finger from the basin,
and underneath it the fresh greens grew. As Garrick picked the watercress, he
couldn’t help but let his mind wander again. He and Martin came from families
that were farmers, barely making it through the years. Garrick’s father had
once told him that a man’s job is to provide, and provide he would. Their
families always wanted them to work in the farms, their dabbles in the arcane
never appreciated. Though now they’d use their perceived-to-be useless
competence to forage Eron, sell those valuable herbs, and surprise their
families. Garrick imagined the smile on his mother’s face; she deserved it for
all she’d given him and the little he’d returned.
Garrick had collected a hefty bundle of watercress he was satisfied
with. It would serve as a decent snack. He made his way back.
Just as he rounded a cluster of goldenrod bushes, for the first split
second Garrick believed he’d underestimated how large and imposing the
protruding arm of the mountain was. The next second, he saw the enormity for
what it was.
A giant.
Eighty foot tall, she wore a blue-gray robe reaching only the middle of
her thighs. She had a large frame, with a voluminous bosom, meaty thighs, and
toned calves. Her hair was a light brown, reaching her shoulder blades with the
frizzled look of having just woken up from bed. The lady had full lips, rich
brown eyes, and a pronounced jaw, certainly towards the mature end but not
having crested the middle-ages yet. Late thirties, Garrick surmised.
The lady was on her tiptoes, rounding the shoulder of the mountain. At
first Garrick wondered if she was shy or overly respectful, not wishing to
disturb Martin in his intense map-reading session by the bank. Though it was
peculiar how she raised her arms to evade the larch trees, her large, shapely
feet not allowing those deep arches and heels to touch the ground as only the
lanky toes and meaty balls padded the soil quietly. It was also peculiar how her
sneaky advance made straight for Martin, the eager eyes locked on him, the tip
of her tongue poking out between the lips in a mixture of focus and excitement.
The lead-up had the feel of someone sneaking up on a friend for a surprise. But
she was no friend. She was a stranger, and a large stranger at that. Despite
his suspicion, Garrick couldn’t find the moment where he was adamant on acting.
Once he knew something was wrong, it felt like it happened too fast.
The shadow of her left foot fell over Martin.
“Huh?” He turned up to see the richly wrinkled arch descend upon him.
Unlike her previous footsteps, this one lacked all the harmless stealth,
letting the whole left sole slam down upon him. A tremor took the ground, the
basin rippling, a few loose pebbles tumbling down the mountain and splashing
into the water. Her large, meaty foot had practically swallowed Martin up,
meeting no resistance. The giant stood on that one left leg, not putting the
other foot down, drilling her weight onto Martin through the pillar of pale,
ample flesh. Those round toes wriggled buoyantly, satisfied with their meal.
The lady clamped her hands together and brought them over her
collarbone, looking down like a girl would dote over a puppy. “I’ve got another
one.” She rubbed her hands together and closed her eyes, whispering gratitude
with a blissful smile. “Mommy’s got another slave.”
Another one? Slave? An impulse made Garrick twitch, about to step out
from the bush, to act, to save his friend. But he took in the sight before him,
the shapely foot which had promptly flattened his friend, the muscular, groping
toes, the meaty calf and thigh, the entire eighty-foot colossus before him, and
he wondered what would prevent him from ending up like his friend. Still
standing on the left foot, the right one came and stroked its counterpart,
commending it for its catch, or perhaps jealous, wishing it too could taste a
human of its own. No matter how mannered and reasonable Garrick would present
himself, he couldn’t put any trust in her reciprocating any of it. Garrick knew
that in the case of a confrontation, the risk of finding himself underneath the
other foot was high.
“Fuck,” he muttered. His inability to do anything was nothing short of a
disgrace, the words of his mother echoing in his head.
“How lucky can a girl get?” the lady said, her voice deep with a mature
richness. “A cute young man sits out here all alone, like a rabbit waiting
outside the fox’s den. It must be fate. He might turn out to be the best slave
yet.” She teetered from standing on one foot, planting the toes of her other
one on the bank enough to gain balance, but not enough to lighten the load on Martin.
There was time for Garrick to act, to snap out of the spell of indecisiveness
he found himself in. But he stood as rooted to this spot as the giant’s strong
foot was on his friend. Garrick couldn’t imagine what he’d accomplish by
confronting her.
At last, she put her weight on the right foot and kicked the left one
back, revealing Martin, helplessly plastered to the cushy sole. The foot had
gathered a sparse spread of dirt and splinters of bark and twigs and grass,
especially around the ball and heel and the bulbous underside of her toes. The
arch displayed her pale, creamy flesh in its purest form, and with his
shoulders and head against her ball, the rest of Martin’s body stretched down
across the arch. From toe to heel, the foot was slightly over twice his length,
comfortably covering him up.
With a playful couple of toe-flexes, she made him dance, Martin the
puppet and her digits the puppeteer holding the strings. She chuckled briefly,
biting her lower lip, one hand slipping in under the neckline of her robe and
groping her breast. As if someone there castigated her, she came to and slapped
herself lightly on the cheek. “Heavens, Liza, contain yourself.”
So her name was Liza, Garrick noted, and a surge of purpose welled up
within him, giving meaning to his inaction. He’d report this to the giant
guards; that would be his role.
Liza reached with her hand and pinched Martin’s shoe. As if her foot was
the banana and Martin the skin, she peeled him off, Martin’s body parting from
the sole with the deep crackle of ripping wallpaper. Martin hung from her hand
in a daze, muttering something incomprehensible.
Liza brought him up to her face to observe him. “Young men are the best additions.
I can’t have asked for any better.”
Martin came to with sudden attention, noticing his predicament. Liza’s
other hand closed around his torso. One of his arms were free, and he threw it
inattentively, a bolt of green magic discharging from his hand and soaring
right past her ear.
Liza’s head snapped back with a gasp. “A mage.” Her other hand rushed
forward to close over him, folding his other arm inside. “Let’s get those arms
in check. Mages are more resilient, but I’ll work you into shape. You’ll be
just like all the other slaves, in the end.” Adjusting to have both his arms
closed in one hand, Liza untied and parted her robe. She wore nothing
underneath, and Garrick watched in shock as she brought her hand down and aimed
Martin’s head at those large, pink lips.
“Garrick!” Martin shouted with a surge of panicked life, staring down
the mouth of those hungry lips. “Don’t come back! Get away from here!”
“He’s got fight in him.” Liza’s expression was glowing with excitement.
“They always do in the beginning.” She used his head to prod her lips apart,
and with a humble little nudge inserted him to the shoulders. Fingers on his
ankles, Liza thrust Martin straight inside, and from a tense neck to clenched
toes, the jolt of electric pleasure cut through her entire being. “Ah. I’m
addicted to this,” Liza whispered, beginning a gentle rhythm as she pulled him
in and out. But she cancelled it quickly with an impersonal insertion. “No,
Liza. Get a grip, not here.” She watched the surroundings with a newfound
attention, a sweep of her gaze which might have caught Garrick if he had
emerged from his bush too boldly. “He called for another one, a Garrick.
Perhaps his companion.”
Hearing his name from her mouth was like a spotlight cast straight upon
him, removing the goldenrod bush and his clothes, and for that second he may as
well have laid naked under her gaze. Garrick cooled down; his backpack and the
bundle of watercress was with him, and as Liza observed the waterside, he recognized
there were no signs of him left for her to find.
“Back home it is.” Liza patted her nethers through the robe. “With slave
number six.” Liza punted Martin’s backpack into the basin. Then she turned and rounded
the arm of the ridge she’d come from, heading into the valley cutting through
the mountains. The thud of her steps along the hurricane of whisking leaves as
the trees were shoved aside, it abated, until there was quiet.
Garrick had to report this to the guards. The disappearances were
well-known. Though he feared the errand would get washed away, as it currently
was. Something in Garrick’s gut didn’t sit right, to see his friend be
kidnapped before him and turn the other way. Garrick picked up his rucksack and
followed.
Liza’s footprints were pronounced through the bank and forest bed of the
valley, a good trail to pursue. Garrick didn’t expect to overcome her and
rescue his friend in a glorious blaze of heroism. There was no confrontation in
mind. He merely hoped to find her home, wherever she kept herself and this nasty
business, and return to the guards with a splendid report detailing the
culprit’s appearance, name, and whereabouts.
Garrick jogged, not activating his magics but not wishing to trail too
far behind either. “Slave,” he muttered. At first he’d been confused. The word
slave invited visions of enforced labor, that she’d kidnapped humans and made
them work. Though that never made sense, as one giant would make better labor
than hundreds of humans. Only mages would make sense, and she hadn’t known
Martin was a mage until after she’d ambushed him. The answer lay in her lewd
behavior. It gave the word slave its meaning in this context. She was a horny
psychopath.
Garrick kept his attention sharp, envisioning the map in his head and
preventing it from going foggy constant updates with every turn and course he
took down the valley, guided by her footprints. He arrived at a portion where
the two mountains bridged the valley overhead, like a chunky stone arch above
the valley. After coming out of its shadow, the prints on the ground suddenly
disappeared.
Garrick felt the presence behind him, her shadow growing over him, and
as he stared up and saw her excited face and the large sole flying down to meet
him, the thoughts raced through his head, how she’d taken cover behind the
mountainous arch of rock, snuck up behind him the way she’d snuck up on Martin,
how there hopefully was another observer to witness this, who hopefully
wouldn’t be dumb enough to repeat Garrick’s mistake.
Hopefully, something
would break the cycle, as Garrick saw the same thing Martin had by the water,
the enormous foot stomping down upon him.
“Hey, are you awake?” The man who waved his fingers before Garrick’s
eyes was naked, as was the other four behind him.
Garrick woke with a shudder. They were in a room, a giant-sized one. The
two-hundred feet high walls made it seem like he’d found himself in the
grandest of old temples, built for old kings with the dying labor of thousands.
However, the rustic wooden planks, the common dresser and cupboard and plain
chair and desk, they brought all the grandeur down to the reality of a common
room. A window above them let in sunlight. Garrick’s wrists were tied to metal
loops on the wall, their existence revealing that holding humans captive here
wasn’t uncommon. Garrick pulled at his constraints, realizing there was room to
move his arms. The instinct to summon magic came.
But when he reached out for his pool of energy, he couldn’t find it, as
if a blanket had been put over the only light in the room and he fumbled about
aimlessly.
“I already tried.” It was Martin who spoke, tied similarly beside
Garrick. He jostled his constrained limb, the forearms covered in a black
brace. “Hardgum.” The material was a known magic-suppressant, morphing to a shock-absorbing,
gelatinous texture when exposed to moisture and humidity, and hardening to a
dense, rock-like structure when allowed to dry.
“How did she get you?” The one who woke them spoke, a young man around
their age. He had long hair and deep dark eyes, a relatively athletic build. And
he was naked as the day he was born. So was the other four men behind them, as
well as Garrick and Martin.
“We rested by a lake,” Martin said. “She snuck up on me, stomped me
flat. Garrick, how did she get you? Didn’t you get my warning?”
“I wanted to see where she was going.” Garrick’s eyes trailed over the
roof, still in disbelief. “Where the hell are we? What is this?”
“You’re with Mommy now.” One of the four other men spoke, and it was the
deadpan look with which he said those words that confused Garrick. “It takes
some time, but you’ll come around to like it. We all did, and we can’t imagine
being anywhere else.”
Martin frowned. “Who are you guys?”
A blonde youth, the man put his hand on his chest. “I’m Slave One.” He
pointed to the thin-haired man with an oblong face. “That’s Slave Two.” Then to
the shorter, bald one beside him. “That’s Slave Three.” The fourth one was
stouter and thick-built, with a rich beard. “That’s Slave Four.” Finally, he
pointed to the well-built, dark-eyed one who woke them up. “And that’s Slave
Five.”
Garrick noticed how Slave Five also wore hardgum braces. “You’re a mage
too?” Moreover, there was a depth to the look in his eyes, a certain
battle-worn weight of having seen things. The four others carried themselves
with a childlike innocence.
Slave Five leaned forward and whispered to the two. “I’m Harry.”
“What’s going on here?” Garrick said. “Where the hell are we? And who
the hell is that woman?”
“We’re somewhere in the Koll Mountains, close to border to Eron,” Harry
said. “In the middle of them, where no one goes. The lady… you’ll have to call
her Mommy.”
Garrick snorted. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”
“I was like that too,” Harry said. “We all were.”
Martin gave up the effort of pulling at his restraints. “What does she
want? Money?”
“She wants us all to be happy,” Slave One said. “With Mommy, you will
never know misery again.”
“Okay, but how what if we don’t want to be here?”
“Everyone wants to be here.”
Garrick frowned. “Listen, I know those skulls of yours are empty, but—”
The large door opened from across the room. Liza entered, closing the
door after her. Martin’s gaze was studious, never having seen more than the
underside of her left foot. Her brown hair was combed and smoothed out into a
tidy blanket falling over her head and neck. The silken, blue-gray robe reached
midway across her thigh, revealing those strong, smooth legs, a remembrance for
Garrick, a sight to behold for Martin.
She smiled, walking towards them, a pulse felt in the wooden floor from
the padding of her soles. The happiness on the slaves, minus Harry, was
palpable. Their heads were raised and alert, their fingers fidgeting with
excitement, and their open mouths trended towards an upward, smiling curve. The
only thing left was for them to have tails to wag, and they’d be no different
than a dog seeing the owner return home.
“Are my slaves happy to see me?”
“Yes, Mommy!”
“I’ve missed you so much, Mommy!”
“Please, never leave us again.” The four of them could hardly stand
still, dripping in unified joy. Slave Five, or Harry, as he’d chosen to call
himself with residues of his former self still there, snuck in with the other
four. He couldn’t stick out with his dispassion.
Liza stopped about ten yards from them. “Nope.” She held out a palm,
then pointed at them. “Stay.”
Like dogs receiving commands, they got on their knees, holding their
positions. Liza stood on her heels, raising her feet and revealing the
underside. The toes and ball of the foot were smeared with dusty dirt, marring
her pale hue. She flexed her toes, making them yellow from pressure. “Do you
miss them?”
“We do, Mommy!”
“I miss them the most!”
“Please let us worship them, Mommy.”
Garrick and Martin exchanged disturbed looks, wondering whether these
were actual people, waiting for the moment where they would all burst out in
laughter and end this farce.
That moment never came. Liza snapped her finger. “Come.” All five, with
Harry trailing last, ran up to her and dove at her feet, rabidly peppering her
feet with kisses like two lovers reunited after years. Slave Two and Four made
their way to the inner side of her feet with a trail of kisses while the other
three were at her toes, One and Five on her left foot and Three at her right.
“No tongue, and hands off your dicks.”
“Yes, Mommy.” They were riddling her feet with their prickling kisses,
Liza having to restrain her joy and keep her feet still to leave them
undisturbed at their task. Then she threw a taunting smirk at Garrick and
Martin.
“Don’t look so daunted, my boys,” she said, the alluring voice befitting
a fox from the stories. “They were once like you, and then I trained them. You
will be no different. So remove the fight in you, the reluctance, and simply
take it in. Take it in and learn.”
“We don’t want this,” Martin hollered. “They clearly do. That’s the
difference.”
“Did you not hear me?” Liza snapped her fingers. All five of them ceased
their kissing and stepped back from her feet, awaiting the next command. Slow
and theatrical, Liza raised one foot and took a stride forward, followed by
another one. She stood right before the wall, bringing that row of ten globular
toes within spitting distance of Garrick and Martin. The sun blaring at her through
the window, she drew the curtains, her towering greatness demanding they bend
their necks fully just to find her eyes.
She snapped her fingers once again and pointed at her feet, and all five
slaves followed from where she’d left them, from where they’d obediently
remained. They were puppets operated by her will, even Slave Five who’d
introduced himself using his name, who was a mage, who showed hints that a
modicum of self-respect remained, was among them. It didn’t matter that he
hadn’t thrown out the most obsessive comments, perhaps lacking in the slavish
vigor the other four displayed. What mattered was that he obeyed all her
commands, that he too pathetically ran with the rest of them and got on his
knees between her feet.
“Do you see how good
my slaves are?” Liza stood astride them, those two gargantuan feet and their
lanky toes standing with an almost protective poise, sheltering its subjects.
“They were like you. And you will be like them.” Her toes scraped the wooden
floor with one distinguished flex. Liza picked at the loop by her waist and
untied her robe, about to undress. “Now, slaves. Let’s show our two new members
just how much fun we have around here.”
Liza pulled the robe off her, bundled it, and tossed the ball of cloth.
The back of the chair by the desk caught it as it unfurled midair. Hands on her
hips, she stood with her nakedness proudly on display. As if being
eighty-foot-tall wasn’t enough, Liza was massive even for her proportions. Had
she been human, she’d be taller than any of the men there and require the
biggest shoes. Her enormous feet and her frame had always suggested it, though
now with the robe gone, there was no mistaking those strong, weighty thighs as
they widened up to meet her hips. Liza had neither an hourglass figure nor was
she fat, a defined line to her sizable bulk, her abdomen flat and those
gigantic breasts protruding well forward.
Garrick just noticed his gaping mouth, in sheer awe of the sight before
him. One of her calves contained more muscle than the combined mass of all the
seven men present, a monument of flesh. And the bulk was not alone; it was
joined by a feminine refinement. She was a goddess.
Garrick and Martin noticed their transfixion and broke free. Their awe
was feeding her ego.
“Slaves,” Liza said, the brief delivery of a command. She flexed her
toes to give an indication. “Continue.”
“Yes, Mommy!” All five returned to their position, kissing her toes and
feet. That they were now in spitting distance of Garrick and Martin gave the
desired effect, the two of them able to see the way her soft foot flesh caved
in to the slaves’ faces, hearing the smooches, their piggish groans of
pleasure. The detail that robbed the scene of all its potentially theatrical character
was the fact that all five slaves had an erect manhood, an authenticity which
left no room for doubt in Garrick and Martin’s minds. And when they understood
the sincerity of the slaves’ affection for her feet, even Slave Five who seemed
to hold onto some pride, who had to wear braces of hardgum to repress his
magic, the conclusion it led to made them see the true predicament before them.
Either all five of them happened to enjoy feet and humiliation, which seemed
improbable, or Liza indeed had some bulletproof procedure to turn them into the
groveling excuses for men they now were. A procedure she would likely employ on
Garrick and Martin. They feared the future where another pair of captives would
be in their place, and Garrick and Martin would be number six and seven, debasing
themselves.
“Tongue.” That was all she said, yet it was as if she’d opened a
pressure valve. All five slobbered away at her feet, the soundscape now
enrichened by the sticky stroke of their tongues and the dog-like grunts coming
out of their open mouths. Garrick and Martin kept trying to make eye contact
with one of them, offer them their grimace and see if they would surface from
the degeneracy they’d collapsed under. But the slaves were absorbed, not
sparing a hundredth of their attention to anything other than the task at hand.
Slave One was diligently lapping away at her second toe. Like a wet broom his
tongue swiped stretches of her yellow-pale flesh back into existence, which had
been hiding underneath the layer of dusty dirt she’d gathered outside. He would
even double back with his licks, finding the little islands of dirt he’d missed
and suck them clean. These men were beyond rescue. Garrick looked up, finding
her smirk. She knew the nature of his thoughts, the hope he tried to cling
onto, the hope he tried to spread to the rest, recruit them to normal and away
from wherever they’d descended. And she knew how he realized the hopelessness
of it.
Slave Two was worshipping her big toe nearest Garrick, and without a
word spoken, the big toe rose, and Slave Two got underneath it like one would
get on their back and repair the underside of a wagon. He bit the nub of her
toe and Garrick could see the muscles working around his throat and neck, the
caving in of his cheeks as he sucked. It was the intense intimacy one reserved
for their significant other, which he’d chosen to squander on the nub of a big
toe.
“Tell Mommy how much you love her feet,” Liza said.
“We love Mommy’s feet!”
“They’re the most delicious thing that’s ever graced this world!”
“They’re cuddly, soft, and kind, like Mommy! We would kiss them all day
if Mommy let us.”
The impact of their adoration could be visibly seen, Liza closing her
eyes with a deep exhale, her fingers entering her pussy. “Oh, Mommy does let
you kiss them all day. Mommy gives you as much feet as you want.” A drop of cum
broke free from her swollen, pink-brown lips, splashing right underneath her.
“Slave Five, you noticed it. Clean it up.”
“Yes, Mommy.” His words, the one named Harry, carried an effort to be
produced. Garrick and Martin could sense it, while for the rest it came
naturally. There was something of him left inside, which made it doubly
disappointing to see him obey all her commands, to see him get down and slurp
up the droplets of cum upon the wooden floor.
Liza gave her most vocal moan yet. “Mommy can’t hold it in any longer.”
She squatted, her knees almost touching the wall. She allowed her bottom to
fall back, keeping her feet near the wall, Garrick, and Martin. “Slave Three,
Four, and Five.” Liza beckoned towards her. They jogged down the avenue between
her legs. Slave Five and Four were taken by her hands. Liza leaned back onto
her elbows, placing them on her breast, and the immediacy with which they
latched on and sucked away at her nipple revealed a routine character to the
ordeal. Furthermore, Slave One and Two by the feet had clambered up a sole
each. They hung sideways, their legs wrapped around her fourth digit and their
arms wrapped around the first one, their torso grasped under the pronounced
curvature of her third and second toes. And in that position, without any
communication, they commenced worshipping the underside of her rotund big toe,
just as Slave Four and Five were on her nipples, and Liza picked up Slave Three
and shoved him straight into her pussy.
It started with a sharp shriek from her, steadying into a more
consistent moan as she masturbated with Slave Three. Garrick and Martin refused
to believe he truly was enjoying this, this one-sided affair where he was
reduced to nothing more than a pleasure-stick. Swirling him about, a few
exceptional deep plunges, she mixed it up somewhat, though always returned to
the reliable pumping rhythm. Threads of cum oozed down the gaping, pink-brown
mouth which was devouring Slave Three.
“Oh god…” Liza groaned. “Uuuuuuuuuuuuh.” Her heels, ass, shoulder
blades, and back of the head were the anchors to the ground, but the zaps of
pleasure would take her with such force that sometimes her ass would jump up,
the lower portion of her shoulder blades leaving the floor. All four other
slaves handled the turbulence well. Slave One and Two were helped by her
clenching toes holding them in place, their mission to worship that big toe and
eliminate all dirt from it uninterrupted. Slave Four and Five on her breasts
held on with their arms and legs like the groping contraction of a
four-fingered hand, kissing, licking, and sucking on her nipples, fighting to
fit as much of it in them as they could. They looked like leeches.
“Brother…” Martin looked at Garrick with a somberness that was on the
brink of laughter. “Where have we ended up?” The scene of utter debauchery
before them made their hopelessness even clearer. They weren’t captured by an
institution, a royal house, town guards, or the like. They had been kidnapped
by a deranged nymphomaniac, out in the mountains, and they were at her complete
mercy.
“Fuck.” Liza’s words steamed out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She terrorized her
own pussy with Slave Three’s body, and with a howl portending what was to come,
a jet of squirt shot out. The tip of it drizzled right on the wall between
Garrick and Martin, the splashes hitting them plentily. They flinched and
turned away from it as much as their restraints allowed. Though there was no
hiding from it. They were in the line of fire, and they saw Liza’s wide eyes
fixed on them, motivated.
“Keep licking, you worthless little shits,” she yelled. “I need more. I
need— Oh, lord above. LORD ABOVE.” She shot at them again, this time able to
sustain the spray of liquid enough to let it drill into the wall between them.
With a slight turn of her pelvis, she aimed, and Garrick wasn’t receiving any
mere splashes anymore. The squirt bore straight into him, as if he’d been
placed before a broken pipeline. He exclaimed, a mistake, for his open mouth
allowed it to enter. The exposure lasted for a couple of seconds, though that
was enough to leave him drenched, coughing her liquid out. It dripped from his
nose, eyelashes, strands of his long hair, chin, converging at every tip of his
body.
Liza paused for a couple of seconds, preparing herself with a couple of
deep breaths. Turning her neck down, her exhausted face peered between her
bosom. She clenched her teeth, a sudden frustration amidst the pleasure. “You
think you’re better than us? Looking at my slaves with those judgmental eyes,
looking down on us, like you’re any better.” Her eyes went to Garrick. “And now
you’re soaked in my juice. You’re no better. You’re one of them.” Then she was
back at it, Slave Three having no say in the matter as she used him further.
With her other hand, she rubbed her clit, working herself back up to a third
orgasm. “There’s nothing left but to submit to your new Mommy!”
The four slaves’ sucky kisses were ongoing. Liza’s back arched, her
bottom and shoulder blades leaving the floor as the pleasure controlled her.
With a sharp yelp transitioning into a howl, another blast of squirt came. This
time, it wasn’t aimed well, stray drizzles hitting them both as most of it struck
the wall. Though Liza tried to retain heat of the moment instead of advancing
it. Paying no mind to the two slaves latched onto her toes and the other on her
breast, Liza put her feet flat on the floor before Garrick and Martin and
brought her hulking mass over, hunching down before the two. Slave Four and
Five did their best to hold onto her chunky breasts, a tougher fight now that
gravity pulled them away from her nipples rather than into them. Two and One
were flattened underneath the standing toes, squeezed into the pools of cum. Hunched
over like one would when taking a shit outdoors, Liza pulled Slave Three in and
out harder than ever before, holding onto the windowsill above her.
“You. Are. My. New. Slaves.” One last orgasm. Her pussy released an
explosive gush, a deluge accurately finding Martin and hitting his head so
forcefully, the muscles in his neck couldn’t outcompete the power, his head
pinned against the wall.
Her liquids served a very efficient function. The blast of cum washed
away all their notions of a normal, civilian condition, a ceremonious shower
initiating them into their new status. It was the holy water driving away the
demons of their previous lives, a trial so wild it shattered Garrick and
Martin’s notions of what was normal, leaving a shell-shocked confusion behind
that new routines could replace, the routines of being her slaves.
Liza put her hand against the wall for support, her brown hair frizzled,
eyes half-open. Three quarters of Slave Three’s body had been left hanging out
of the wide mouth of her pussy, and with all her wetness, he slipped out
easily. He splashed on the cum like a ragdoll dropped, breathing as if he’d
just finished a long sprint.
“D— Did I do good, Mommy?” he whispered with a shudder.
Liza didn’t respond. She pried Slave Four and Five off her teats to let
them drop beside Three, then adjusted her feet wider apart, leaving One and Two
where her toes had previously stood. Liza sat, landing on the cum with a splash
and burying them all underneath the endless expanse of her bubbly ass. Not much
was left to make contact with Garrick and Martin, and with her legs
athletically spread apart, Liza nudged her hip forward and buried the two into
the fleshy walls of her inner thighs.
“Welcome to the
family, Slave Six and Seven.”
Liza’s cottage sat beside a waterfall crashing into a lake. The nearest
mountain peaks towered towards the skies sharply, nestling this little pocket
amidst the network of valleys into the obscure location it was. Garrick hadn’t
been able to see any paths either. He severely doubted help was anything he
could expect. What made it worse was that him and Martin had left on their
mission to scavenge Eron against the wishes of their families, for it was a
perilous journey. No doubt their families would curse themselves for not having
stopped them from leaving. Garrick and Martin’s absence would have such a
fitting premise, fallen in Eron, considered beyond rescue when all they truly
needed were for the town guards to come this way.
Garrick lay by the lakeside, a patch of grass sloping down into an
avenue of water through the reeds, opening into the lake. The crash of water
was distant but unending. He didn’t lie alone and undisturbed, of course. His
head stuck out between the big and second toe of Liza’s right foot, his naked
body swallowed up underneath the ball and arch of her sole. They were on a pink
blanket she’d lay on the grass, Liza wearing a surprisingly modest teal dress
reaching all the way to her shins.
“How are you enjoying your time, Slave Six?” Liza said, her chin leaning
on her knee as she stared at him obsessively with those brown eyes.
“It’s a nice and cozy home you’ve found for yourself. But I’d like to be
free.”
Liza giggled. “We can begin the bargaining process once you start
kissing my toes.” The big toe flexed, rubbing up against the side of his head.
Garrick’s arms were free, his right one out from the side of her foot and his
left arm out through the gap between her third and second toe, though there was
nothing his free arms could do. Not with the hardgum stuck to his forearms,
their gelatinous texture durable beyond measure. He could only adjust his head
in response to the lively toes which wouldn’t leave him alone. As opposed to
before when the five faithful slaves were licking away at them, now Liza had
cleaned her feet. They carried a fragrance of lemon and strawberry from her
ointments, their pale cleanliness preserved as she’d walked here with the
sandals which lay at the periphery of the blanket.
“I don’t know what you’re trying here,” Garrick said. “Cleaning up your
feet, making them smell nice, it won’t make me suddenly want to kiss them. Is
this the extent of your persuasive skills, Liza?”
He saw her flinch from the use of her name. “And where did our little
slave get that name?”
“I heard you talk to yourself when you stomped Martin by the basin. I
don’t know what your plan is. We’re a long way off from me calling you Mommy
and licking your toes, so what’s the plan? Listen, I promise, we won’t say
anything, me and Martin. Let us go and it’ll be forgotten, trust me, I
genuinely see the happiness on the other five, I can accept that they might
want this.”
Liza chuckled, a glance up to the skies before resting her chin back on
her knee. “You’ve got character. It makes it that much more satisfying once
you’re my slave.” Her big and second toe gave him a little squeeze, compressing
his cheeks. “The plan is that you’re much smaller than me. You’re powerless,
especially with the hardgum on. So you’ll be around here, with no other life to
understand and get used to. And as you get used to this life, you’ll realize
how to best optimize your enjoyment. That’s what the five slaves have done,
they’ve optimized their enjoyment. Also, there’s disciplinary measures for
continued disobedience. It provides a proper distinction, you can choose to
enjoy yourself, or not to. I would wager my slaves life some of the happiest
lives there are out there, with all the poverty, war, depravity.”
Garrick paused. “You don’t seem too stupid, a big difference to the
turbulent nymph back in that room.”
Liza raised an eyebrow, her big toe giving him a scolding little tap on
the head. “Why should having a bit of fun suggest anything?” Her big toe didn’t
leave him, pressing down, engulfing his face with its pulpy softness. His nose
was filled with the scent of her lemon and strawberry lotions, and it had the
creamy texture of a baby’s leg, a mesmerizing squishiness somehow found on the
end of this enormous giant. The cleanliness made a stark contrast to the dirty
toes the slaves had to clean before. As her big toe rubbed him gently, Garrick able
to feel the toe prints, he realized this was like an act of seduction.
“Aren’t they soft?” Liza whispered.
They were, Garrick had to concede. It wouldn’t be so bad to kiss it, to
bury his face in its doughy, fragrant expanse and simply return the love they
were showing him. The image of a foot and a toe was gone, it was just clean,
washed flesh.
Garrick returned with a jitter, noticing the nasty thought which had
snuck into his mind.
“They can be kind,” Liza said. “As long as you show them kindness. There
is so much love I have available to provide you, as long as you submit.”
Garrick managed to get his head out from underneath it. “Why feet?”
“Because it’s the perfect trial, the perfect show of subservience.” Liza
tilted her head, amused. “I know what lies in that question.” She guided one
hand down her abdomen. “You want to get in between my legs already.” Her other
hand cupped the bottom curve of her large breast. “Cut straight to the action.
But that’s something you earn, you need to put in the work first. The feet are
where it begins.” The big toe gently scraped down his face, the nub of her toe
hooking onto his lips to try and pry them open. “But I understand it’ll take
some time.”
He noticed her shift, feeling the air seep in through his lower legs as
her foot arched up. The ball and toes remained on him. She reached down with
her hand, Garrick thinking she’d pick him up. Her index finger poked at his
groin. Strangely, it sent an embarrassed shiver throughout Garrick, despite her
hectic orgasms back in the cottage doing more than enough to break the ice. The
precision was the ingredient which made this different, her index flicking his
manhood up and pinning it against his lower abdomen. Then, she stroked it, the
fingertip running up and down along the shaft.
Garrick heaved a few breaths. “What’s the plan?”
Liza merely smiled. The clumsy position she had to sit in didn’t
discourage her, she kept her foot on him and the index on his manhood. The
stroking was made easier as his manhood predictably hardened, giving her a more
defined runway to stroke.
Garrick felt the progression, the tenseness behind his scrotum as his
dick grew more and more sensitive to her touch, and partway through he realized
he wasn’t merely letting the index arrive, he met the fingertip, his hips in a
partnership with it. Garrick tilted his head back, mouth open from breathing.
Liza seized the chance. The big toe lunged for his head like a snake
after the mouse, squishing him into its soft expanse. A chunk of toe flesh
successfully found its way into his mouth, pinning him against the second toe.
Garrick tried to wrench free, the muscles in his neck unable to rival her toe.
They had him locked, the big toe crushing him further, jamming as much of the
pulpy flesh into his mouth. He tasted the balmy strawberry, a complete absence
of an acrid sweaty stench one might expect from feet. Having her toe in his
mouth didn’t kill his drive, his dick remained stiff, responsive to her touch.
Readjusting his tongue for comfort made him inadvertently lick the toe
flesh, the intricate sensory map of his tongue able to feel the swirly prints.
His free arms wrapped around her big and second toe for stability, for some
sense of cooperation in this one-sided affair. The orgasm approached, his
increased huffs and the crack of a moan giving it away.
Her index finger left him, and the sudden void rushing in to replace the
pleasure of her strokes was like a knife in the heart. Only then did he notice
how much he was thrusting his hips, crinkling the blanket under him as his
desperate thrusts hoped the air would give enough friction.
But resistance arrived. Liza put her foot back down. There were no
thoughts to this behavior, what Garrick experienced was like being the wheels
of a wagon which had been pushed, helplessly rolling on without a say in the
matter. And here he figuratively rolled on as he humped his manhood right into
her arch, bursting out his seed. Her toes clamped him harder, overwhelming his
sense of sight, smell, and taste with her big toe, cramming as much of them
into the moment as was possible.
The thrusts ended, the sticky contact between his belly and her foot
laying bare the reality of how he’d humped his seed into her sole with his
mouth full of toe. His cheeks bulged out from the abundance, threads of his
drool spreading over the toe’s bottom.
“Did you like that? It doesn’t have to end, ever. You can do this all
day with Mommy.”
Post orgasm, Garrick didn’t reject everything, he didn’t suddenly flail
and fight about. He felt drowsy, and much like a pacifier for a baby, the chewy
texture of her toe was hypnotic. Eyes closing, he absent-mindedly sucked and
chewed away on it, feeling a therapeutic effect.
“There, there,” Liza
cooed, like a mother. If the Garrick from ten minutes ago had seen himself now,
he’d be revolted. His progression towards becoming a slave happened one step at
a time, though the steps could be far less than Garrick had expected.
The door to Liza’s room opened. Her quarters reminded them all how she
wasn’t particularly wealthy. The bed was simple and against the corner of the
room, a plain pillow and dull, yellow sheet. Beside the head of the bed was a
night table, at the foot it a dresser. Against the opposite wall was her
wardrobe flanked by two square windows. There were shelves stacked with books,
hooks which were lined with curious cords, ropes for a human but threads for a
giant. Some of them had a toe ring on one end and a collar fit for a human’s
neck on the other.
The five slaves, six counting Martin, were on her bed, and Liza had left
them with pairs of her worn panties to indulge in. They all jumped with energy,
scurrying to the edge of the bed to meet her, verbally showering her with the
joy filling their heart upon Mommy’s return. Everyone except Martin.
Liza put Garrick down on the bed. “I’ll be with you soon, Slaves. Mommy
needs to spend some time on the two newer ones, just like she did with all of
you when you were new.”
“When will Mommy be back?”
“Now, now, be patient.” Liza reached out and took Martin. She held onto
the bed frame for support as she slipped her left foot out of her sandal and
hovered it over the slaves. Like starving dogs, their necks extended, mouths
open. Slave One literally drooled. With a coquettish giggle, Liza pulled her
foot back and returned it back to her sandal. “My Slaves can wait, can’t they?
Mommy has taught them well, hasn’t she?”
“Y—Yes she has.”
Liza turned around, her teal dress following with a twirl. The sandals
clapped against her heels as she left, closing the door after her.
“Did Mommy teach you to like her toes?” Slave Three asked Garrick.
Garrick scowled, the titillations in his groin still lingering from the
orgasm. “Don’t talk to me.”
“I was grouchy too,” Slave One said. “I remember, we were all like that
at first.”
“Where are you guys from, anyway?”
Garrick’s question made them exchange looks. Slave One said, “Mommy
doesn’t want us to talk about our time before this.”
“Well, she’s not here.”
They looked amongst one another again. “He doesn’t get it.”
Garrick sighed. “Hopefully, I never will.” They all went their own ways,
two of them to her panties where they lay and snuggled against it, the other
two to her pillow. But Slave Five, Harry, he met Garrick’s eyes and gave a
greeting nod. Garrick approached him. “You seem to have your wits about you
still.”
“You could say that.”
“Slave Five. I’m assuming you came here the latest, before us. Kidnapped,
I should say, not came. Where are you from?” Garrick peered about himself. “If
it’s ‘allowed’ to mention.”
“From Bellstead, in the west. My father’s a cobbler, and I dabbled in
the arcane at the side. I came east to gain an apprenticeship under a witch,
travelled through the Koll Mountains, and Mo— she got me while I rested.”
“Her name is Liza,” Garrick said, seeing the part of him that was still
there and reaching in with any information that might help him. He would undo
the damage she’d done, reverse whatever spell of derangement these slaves had
descended into.
“How do you know that?”
“Overheard her talking to herself. Your name was Harry, was it?”
He nodded.
“How do you keep yourself sane in here? Are you really just accepting
things as they are? Calling her Mommy and all that?”
Harry presented his forearms, dressed in the black hardgum. “You’ve got
any ideas?”
“I’ve had some thoughts… Hardgum, when it dries up and hardens, it’s not
the toughest material out there.”
Harry was listening.
Garrick tugged at the bottom by the lower end of his forearm, its
texture gummy and yielding. “We spread it thin, let it harden, then find a way
to crack it. Everything is large, there’ll for sure be something heavy and
strong enough.”
“The air is humid around here,” Harry said. “The hardgum rarely dries.
And, well, you saw it for yourself. She gets horny and wet several times a day.
And if it’s not straight in her cum, it’s against her body, where it gets hot
and moist. Bottom line, there’s a lot of wet interruptions throughout the day,
no time to let it dry.”
Garrick noted the elongated square of sunlight stretched across the
floor, beaming through the window. “Summer has just begun. The last few days
have been warmer than ever before.”
Harry wasn’t quick to repudiate that point. “It’s never been warm during
my time here, no.”
“Right?”
“Listen, I doubt it’s the solution you think it is. There’s no simple
way out of this. And, frankly, you know why everyone accepts this? We’re well
fed, taken care of, have little to worry about. I took this up with your friend
just now, while she had you, but she’s a lot bigger than us. She can literally
do whatever she wants with us, and we should be happy she’s not a bad person.”
“Not a bad person? Have you lost your mind? She’s kidnapped all of us to
make us satisfy her twisted desires, has that part gone over your head?”
Harry shrugged. “You know what I mean. No torture or pain, she’s not
selling us to the black market. Far across the seas, I’ve heard there’s a group
called the Gray Rhinos, who use humans for experiments. This could be much
worse. We should at least be happy it’s some innocent horniness.”
“Innocent ho—” Garrick flinched with his puzzled grimace.
“I’m not saying I prefer this. If a good chance presents itself, I’ll
take it. But the way you talk about drying the hardgum, cracking it, in a way
you still don’t know, these aren’t good plans. They smell of that unwillingness
to accept things as they are. I had that too.”
“I have that for a good reason.” Garrick marched to the slit of sunlight
coming through the side of the curtain not fully covering the window by the
bed. There, Garrick sat and bared his hardgum forearms to the sunlight. In the
background, the slaves were getting cozy in her panties and pillow, bathing in
her scents.
Harry joined Garrick’s side, and he spoke about his life, and it
confirmed to Garrick that he did indeed enjoy the presence of someone different
from the rest, this stupefied bunch of four who couldn’t see anything beyond
their life as Mommy’s slaves. Garrick couldn’t quite assess Harry’s mindset, he
carried himself with some self-respect, yet didn’t battle the notion of being
Liza’s slave.
The door opened, Liza holding Martin in her hand. He had a cloudy look,
regaining focus, and given what Garrick knew, his post-orgasmic nature was
clear. She’d likely had him pleasured underneath her foot as well.
The slaves once again congregated at the edge of the bed to meet her.
And Liza left them hanging once again, dropping Martin off and announcing she
had to prepare their food as she left again.
“Did she jerk you off as well?” Garrick asked his friend.
“Yeah… Her foot was soft… Can’t believe how big she is.”
“I’ve thought of a plan.” Garrick compared the state of his sun-batched
hardgum to Martin’s, who had recently been under her humid feet. There was a
noticeable difference, Garrick’s producing a clunk when knocked on while
Martin’s was gummy still. He revealed the idea he had.
“Once it dries and gets stiff, what force do we have to break the
hardgum? We’d have the strength if we had access to our magic, but that’s the
problem to begin with.”
Garrick shrugged. “Shouldn’t be impossible to find something. We’re
surrounded by enormity. Let’s start thinking, at least. We’ve got time.”
“Should something appear in this head of mine, I’ll tell you.”
After a while, Liza returned. “Dinner’s ready, slaves.” She snapped her
fingers and pointed to her feet. “Come to Mommy.”
They didn’t hesitate to jump off the bed, landing on the floor with a
series of thunks. They looked like ducklings following the hen. Harry took a
few steps forward, glanced back at Garrick and Martin, then indicated forward.
They followed. They were last to arrive before her great, sandalled feet, the
slender and round toes happily waving before the slaves like eye candy, testing
their self-restraint. Their heads rotated, following the toes like a cat
tracing a fly in the air.
“They’re beautiful, Mommy!”
“Oh yes, they are.” She slapped her hands together and turned around,
taking her steps slowly to let them all catch up. Garrick and Martin stared up
at the walls of the hallway, noting two more closed doors along their side
before they arrived at the open doorway leading into the main room. There, a
sink and stone oven stood near the corner, a pile of crudely cut logs beside it
with a small kitchen table and two chairs over a blue carpet. The door outside
was open, Garrick seeing the tall mountains through it and the windows.
Liza sat at the table, a bowl of porridge and plate of fruits and nuts
presented. Garrick and Martin simply followed the others, Harry giving them a
few signals and marks to follow. He wasn’t surprised they weren’t placed on the
table to eat, but ran underneath it, seeing the vast teal canvas that was her
dress rise up with her legs, tuck in over her knees, and up her abdomen before
disappearing past the table ledge. Her feet slipped out of her sandals and sat
on top of them.
“Slave One to Five, I hope you’ll show our newcomers how the table
manners around here are.” Liza leaned back and bent down with a spoonful of
porridge. She dispersed the spoonful out over her left foot in two portions,
spreading its pasty, thick texture with the bottom of the spoon. “One and Two,
eat.”
“Thank you, Mommy!” They ran forward and cast themselves at her foot,
beginning before any of it was allowed to skid down the slope of her foot.
While they worked, she set out two new portions on her other foot, and Slave
Three and Four took that one. The porridge had brownish hue from the cinnamon,
with fragments of walnut and apple throughout giving the slaves an interruption
to their licking and slurping as they had to chew sometimes. The quality of
food didn’t seem poor, especially as Slave Four had a stout frame which he’d
been able to maintain throughout his time here, a time which can’t have been
short considering how devoted he was.
Garrick and Martin realized they were indeed hungry, and that, as they
weren’t willing to resist to the point of starvation, would be licking their
sustenance up like the slaves soon enough. They wouldn’t be as slavish as they
were, Slave One and Two were clearly going over patches they’d already licked
clean of porridge, continuing to lick and kiss the skin. Liza would
occasionally lean back and peer down with a mouthful of her own food, watching
them. Downsized to their proportions, the chunks off her spoon amounted to more
than a bowl for each slave.
When they finished, she let them kiss her for another minute before
sending them back. Then, she tilted her feet, letting them rest on the outer
side with the soles facing each other. The spoon of porridge returned, leaving
a chunk on the top of her tilted left sole.
“Slave Five, show your companions how it’s done,” Liza said, setting
down two different chunks on her other foot. “Show how delectable the food is
off Mommy’s feet.”
“Yes, Mommy,” he said. Harry turned back to the two of them, nodding
with him as he took a step forward. “It’s not worth starving, guys. Come.” He
went ahead.
Garrick didn’t move for the first few seconds, turning to Martin. Martin
took that first, crucial step. “He’s right.”
Garrick knew it. Though acting on it was different, and it took a great
deal to march up to her other foot and lick. But he did, and the porridge was
indeed delicious. Her foot didn’t spoil the taste, they’d been so properly
cleaned that it couldn’t be much worse than scooping the food off a washed
plate.
Liza had her feet tilted back, to not make a straight drop down her
soles and give the porridge a slope to decline upon. Her feet, as massive as
they were, weren’t wider than they were tall, and Garrick and Martin had full
access to its entirety. Garrick licked the porridge down her arch while Martin
was on the ball of her foot, and Garrick had to get into the wrinkles to get as
much of it as possible. Her sole was so soft that Garrick found himself
slurping and sucking until he realized the porridge was long gone and he’d
spent his seconds making out with her foot flesh. There was almost a hypnotic
feel to the squishiness it had between his lips and teeth, firm yet soft,
pleasant to chew at.
Garrick snapped out
of it, noticing his position. He had hoped to bring Harry out of the slave-like
trance he was in, recruit him back to his old self. But it seemed the opposite
was happening, Harry drawing them to the slave side.
Towards the first night of Garrick and Marvin’s time as her slave, Liza
retired to her bed fully naked. She had one candle lit by her night table and
another on a small shelf on the opposite side, their cozy lights flickering
weakly.
Liza breathed out deeply. “Slaves, you know the routine. This huge body
you see is tending to all our needs, providing for us all. Thank me. Relieve my
body of all its tension.”
“Yes, Mommy!” Liza lay on her back, sprawled out in a neutral position,
and the slaves spread out along the outline of her enormous body and got to
work. Their arms hugging and massaging, their mouths kissing, they spread their
prickling tugs over her skin. Garrick and Martin did not. They weren’t adamant
in their resistance, but they didn’t notice any downside either. So they
remained where they were, relaxing.
“Slave Six and Seven,” Liza called out. “Mommy did tell you of
disciplinary measures, did she not? I am kind, but strict when necessary.”
“What do these disciplinary measures entail?” Garrick asked. The
straightforward nature of his question, the lack of using her demanded title,
it compounded to an annoyance that made Liza snap her finger, so the slaves
stepped back from her body. She got out of the bed.
“I believe only a demonstration can do the job at this point.”
“No, wait,” Martin said. “Just tell us, uh, Mommy.”
Liza scuffled through drawer, presenting her enormous ass as she bent
over. She got a length of thread, and as she sorted it straight, had her eyes
at a point on the wall above the head of her bed. Garrick found the focus of
her stare, a set of blunt hooks on the wall. He already imagined the numerous
positions they could end up in, and none of them were pleasing.
A few minutes later, tied up in their new bindings, Garrick and Martin
hung suspended from the hooks. The ropes wound around their forearms, over the
hardgum, somewhat kind in its dispersing of weight, but nonetheless leaving
them terribly uncomfortable. There was a tiny projection underneath their feet
to kick onto, though it was a few inches long, not enough to properly put their
heels and stand on.
Liza patted her hands together. “The misbehaving slaves spend the night
there. The good slaves get to sleep on Mommy’s bed. I hope tomorrow looks
different for the two of you, or else the night won’t.” Liza crawled back onto
her bed. “I’m sorry, Slaves. Mommy hasn’t given you all her time today, but you
know how it’s like when we have new members.”
“We understand, Mommy.”
“But Mommy will reward you now.” She rotated her palms upward,
presenting herself. “Worship Mommy’s body to your heart’s content.”
They happily skipped away, dispersing across her body, like leeches they
picked a spot on her body where their mouths remained. They remained local, two
of them staying near her thighs, two by her feet, and one up at her breast.
Garrick and Marvin could hear the wet pops from their mouths releasing a strong
suck on her toes, breast, thighs, and any other chunk of the firm flesh
available to them. There was a lot to choose from.
“Aaaah,” Liza moaned, a gentle and protracted one. She settled back on
her pillow, surrendering. “The perfect end to a day. You know the reward. Once
Mommy is asleep, you may touch yourselves. Until then, there is a job to do.”
Garrick and Marvin had to listen to it all. If they had been left like
this but in another room, the punishment would lose its bite. Now the contrast
wasn’t just between their discomfort and the comfort of a bed, it was the
contrast between their cold, bare loneliness, and the warm love the rest of
them were sharing on the bed. As they hung and the minutes passed, they began
to cherish the chance to cuddle up against her thigh, even recalling fondly
when they’d been underneath her foot by the lake and she jerked them off.
The two couldn’t fall asleep. Even if they found a half-decent foothold
against the ledge and scored a slight angle on which they reclined their backs
against the wall, they couldn’t block out the noise of their worship, the sound
of her moans, a constant reminder of what they didn’t have.
Eventually, the moans were noticeably absent, the sound of their mouths
against her flesh the only thing left. Liza’s head was sideways against the
pillow, limp and fast asleep. The slaves indulged in their promised reward.
Slave Two sucked on her big toe while thrusting his manhood into her foot,
needing no more than a few seconds to cum. Slave One spent his ejaculation on
her other foot, while Slave Three and Four had theirs on her breast. Slave Five,
Harry, buried his face between her pussy and stroked himself into a swift
ejaculation. All five of them fell asleep afterward. Only then could Garrick
and Martin have their own try at sleeping, though it was difficult, the
bindings pulling at their shoulders and wrists, their feet constantly losing
grip and sent into a faint dangle, having to find the ledge again. Their sleep
was fractured, dozing off for half an hour or so before coming to again,
needing another half hour to return to sleep.
“Hey, you awake?” Martin whispered.
“Yeah.” The candles had died down, the moonlight radiant and revealing
the silhouette of the curtains. “Where the fuck have we ended up?”
“I don’t know.” Martin shimmied into a slightly more manageable
position. “Can’t imagine we were planning to scavenge Eron. One horny giant
pales in comparison to the dangers there, yet here we are. I told Harry, and he
said this might have been a blessing in disguise. Saved us from an expedition
that could have ended us.”
“How much better is this?”
“We’re not dead, nor are we in any danger. She’s not looking to kill us,
she’s just a nymphomaniac.”
“Just?” Garrick snorted. “Those are Harry’s words. He might be the most
reasonable of the bunch, but that’s a low standard. I was expecting to bring him
over to reason, and I still mean to, but he’s closer to Slave One to Four than
he is to us.”
“Sure. But listen, I’m not some prisoner of war who’s fervently
patriotic here. There is no test of loyalty. I just want to sleep on a bed, so
I’m doing what she wants tomorrow to get that.”
“You’re going to call her Mommy?”
“Why do you say it like that? It’s not that deep, Garrick. I’m not fine
with our situation, and I’ll throw myself at any chance to escape. But for now,
we’re locked in our hardgum, she’s a lot bigger than us, there’s not much to
do. The solution won’t come in a day.”
“Whatever.” Garrick shifted his shoulders, establishing an angle against
the wall. “Just help me look for a strong force that could break the hardgum.
If we can get them dry and hard, we can crack them apart.”
“I’ll keep my eyes open.” Martin didn’t sound optimistic, but Garrick
had to settle for that.
“Man, imagine the dreams we had, of returning from Eron with fortune.”
“Don’t remind me,” Martin said. “I thought I’d make my mother proud for
once.”
“I wanted to be the man my father tried to make me, one who provides.
Instead, I’m a goddamn foot slave.” Both of them exchanged a short laugh.
Naturally, none of them said any more, drifting off towards sleep, or more
correctly that half-awake state where they dozed in and out of consciousness or
sometimes wondered if they had spent the last half hour asleep or not. Their
sleep was so fractured they tracked the progression of sunrise upon the
curtains, from silvery moonlight to the glow of dawn, and they fell into their
deepest sleep near dawn.
“Morning, my slaves.” They expected Liza to be on her bed, calling to
everyone. But she stood, eyes on Garrick and Martin hanging from the walls.
None of the other slaves were present, perhaps in another room. The bed had a
proper dark stain in the lower half, and Liza had put on a green dress,
altogether revealing that Garrick and Martin had slept through the morning.
“How was your night?”
“Terrible,” Garrick croaked, his neck and shoulders aching.
“Mommy doesn’t want to punish you. But if you’re misbehaving and not
listening, it must come to this. Right?”
“Right…”
“How about this, I’ll let you boys down and give you another couple of
hours on the bed, let you sleep to noon. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course.”
Martin was quick to add, “Yes, Mommy.”
The word made her nod to herself with an impressed smile. “Disciplining
works wonders, it seems.” Liza reached forward and pinched their ropes, freeing
them from the hooks. Not until they touched the wooden floor did their
shoulders groan in relief, both falling to their knees gratefully.
However, and not to any surprise, ten graceful toes rose and fell
rhythmically ahead of them, playing a tune against the wooden floor. “Come and
kiss Mommy’s toes, and ask for forgiveness. Then you get another couple of
hours on the bed. Or, Mommy could put you back up to hang on the wall.”
Martin staggered forward immediately, and Garrick had his moment of
hesitation. But no, in that moment, a soft surface to lay upon was all he
wanted. Martin dipped his head into the gap between her third and second toe, letting
loose a row of kisses. “We’re sorry, Mommy.”
Garrick got the big toe of her other foot, puckering his lips and giving
that creamy flesh his obedience. “We won’t do it again.” With a delay, he
added, “Mommy.”
Liza looked proudly at her work. Even though Garrick did it all with his
head still in the game, his mind sharp and on the lookout for any way out, he
couldn’t help but wonder how he behaved now as opposed to yesterday. In a
single day, he’d travelled far across the spectrum, and he wondered if all the
other slaves had started this way as well.
Author's Notes:
I appreciate and read all the reviews, to those who leave them! Seeing other people's genuine interest motivates me to write on.
Garrick spent the day attentive, watching what he could use to crack the
hardgum. Even after the night, the material was somewhat yielding and not
hardened enough to splinter. The weight of all the enormous furniture would do
a solid job, the issue was how he’d move any of it. All humans were protected
by their connection and affinity for magic, so accidentally hurting himself
wouldn’t be the issue. He needed a great force to throw himself under or in the
line of, but everything around him was static. Only Liza moved, and if she ever
applied great force to them, it was through a slow crush. Worn in her sandals,
smothered under her ass, sandwiched between her thighs or breasts, she did a
lot to them throughout the day, but none of it amounted to the explosive burst
needed to crack it apart. Her flesh was too plenty and plum.
Moreover, as Garrick was taken to the blanket by the lakeside where her
toes would cuddle with him as she stroked his manhood, he noticed the hardgum
had already softened. The sweat and humidity which built up under her
smothering flesh undid whatever callous had amassed.
This time he gave her toes the kisses she sought, and she stroked his
manhood with it, smiling. “A lot of progress so soon. Isn’t that so?”
“Yes, Mommy.” The word was quiet under his breath. She wasn’t hurried in
having him reach his orgasm, Liza drew the process out, the intention clear.
All the pleasure from his dick was coupled with her toes fawning over him, and
day after day she’d try to connect the wires in his brain which would marry her
feet to his sense of pleasure.
However, during the session, he tried his to keep his arms out and
around the toes, in view of the sunlight. Garrick also kept an eye on the
mountains, searching for any prominent cliff or drop he could throw himself
over to break the hardgum.
“Aah.” His focus dropped as climax approached.
“Open your mouth for Mommy.”
Garrick did, and the velvety flesh of her big toe crammed its way
inside. She released his manhood right as he neared the brink, toes closing
together to arrest his arms, leaving him no option but to thrust his manhood
into her sole for a finish.
Liza giggled. “Such a cute little, warm drizzle.” She had her dress
pulled up, two fingers inside her vagina. As Garrick’s efforts died down, her
toes remained clamped around him, the ball of her foot twisting and spreading
the gluelike semen between them. “Human seed really is the secret lotion. My
lady friends often ask me how my feet are so moist and soft, and it’s all thanks
to my slaves.”
Garrick tried to speak, her big toe turning all of it into mumbling.
With a renewed sprawl and her foot relenting, his mouth parted from her toe
with strands of drool. “Lady friends? You meet people, uhm, Mommy?”
“Of course I do.” She touched herself rather leisurely, not erupting
into an outburst of ecstasy. “My slaves are my most precious, but it would
still get lonely out here alone. I’m not a hermit, you know. In fact, we’re
visiting town tomorrow.”
A flower of hope blossomed within him. “Town? You mean together, all of
us?”
“Mommy and her slaves, yes.” Liza pulled the dress down over her knees,
kicking her leg up and Garrick with it. He was loosely glued to her foot, and
after a couple of toe-flexes which wrinkled her foot, he was released, landing
on the blanket. Showing how she wasn’t kidding, Liza rubbed her soles together
to spread the paucity of seed across them, genuinely using it like a lotion.
“Mommy needs more. It’s your friend’s turn now.” Never with a lack of ways to
humiliate him, Liza slotted him in between her ass cheeks, engulfed by her
bubbly flesh.
His time in there was short, pulling him out in the hallway of the
cabin. She opened the door of the room Garrick had never seen, and in there was
Martin and Harry. She swapped Garrick for Martin and left.
“What is this place?” Garrick asked. The room had one window and plenty
of candles, a strange, wooden gurney of sorts, with straps to hold one’s wrists
and ankles, sized for giants, as if surgery was performed for giants here.
Aside from that there was a narrow bench, about forty feet tall with a rounded,
leather top. It looked more like vaulting bench used for an obstacle course
than one to be sat on, tall enough to reach a giant’s waist. There were smaller
wooden poles on the floor and two on the walls, slightly taller than a human
and wide as a leg. Finally, there was a large cabinet, filled with boxes and
bottles of lotion and candles and different kinds of ropes, and whatever else
those closed compartments hid.
“This is where it gets wild,” Harry said. “When she’s really in the
mood.”
“What about that table?” Garrick pointed to the thing with built-in
leather belts, two at one’s arms and two down by the ankles. “It’s for giants.”
“I explained it to your friend this way: she has customers. Trusted
friends who come here and enjoy themselves.”
“Enjoy themselves? You mean the way she uses us to enjoy herself?”
“That’s one way of putting it. They pay her handsomely as well.”
“How is this—” Garrick stopped himself before finishing the sentence. “I
suppose it’s kept secret. A shady, underground business of sorts.”
Harry nodded.
“Hey, I had a thought.” Garrick took in his surroundings once again.
“I’ve been looking for something to crack the hardgum, and I was thinking, does
she ever stomp you? Any of the slaves, I mean.”
“Stomp?”
“Yes, a violent, crushing jab of her foot. It could serve as the force
to break the hardgum, if I get it dry enough.”
There was no lighting up of Harry’s expression the way one would when presented
with a good idea. He narrowed his eyes, shrugging. “It does happen. This may
sound surprising given how tender she presents herself, but she can have a bit
of a temper. It’s usually when a trusted slave misbehaves and she’s in a sour
mood, a combination of things, and then she goes off, stomping after us. Then
it’s every man for himself, we try to get away and wait it out.”
“Hmm.”
“She’s not predictably angry, you can’t just insult her and expect a
stomp. What did you have in mind? Get a good hour of sunlight to make the
hardgum dry, then anger her? It’ll be even more difficult for you and Martin to
draw out her anger, since you’re new, and misbehaving is more expected.”
“Can you give an example of a time when she went on a tantrum?”
Harry rubbed his chin, watching the window. “There is one customer,
Gloria, a young, pretty lady, nineteen years old. She’s stunning, like a
princess out of a fairy tale. We worshipped her, and I can’t deny there isn’t a
charged chemistry with Gloria. She’s beautiful and delicate, and I think Mommy
notices how some of us were genuinely charmed by her. After Gloria left, Mommy
wanted us to worship her. I think it was insecurity, honestly, she wanted us to
lick all her doubts away, make us forget Gloria. But we were tired after that
long session, our efforts were poor, and it just set Mommy off.”
“Jealousy.”
“Yes. She asked why we were so lackluster, no one had a good answer. She
asked if our minds were on Gloria. You could see the rage building in her eyes,
and before anyone said a word, she swatted and kicked us away, and then stomped
us into the ground repeatedly.”
“Does Gloria come by often? She sounds like a surefire way of annoying
Liza.”
“Not that often, no.”
Garrick returned to thought.
Harry put a hand on his shoulder. “Mate, I hope I’m not discouraging
you. Trust me when I say I hope you succeed in finding a way. It’s been a
breath of fresh air having you and your friend around, it’s brought me closer
to normal. I hope you keep that fire going, instead of turning into the other
four.”
“Don’t you worry. And also…” Garrick took Harry’s forearm, turning it
into a brotherly handshake. “I’m doing this for you as well. I’m not trying to
get myself out of here, not just Martin either, but you.” He glanced at the door.
“The other four, I’m not sure. They seem gone.”
“They are.” Harry released his hand. “Slave Two, he’s an experienced
mage.”
“What? He’s not wearing any hardgum!”
“I know. Him and Slave One are out collecting herbs and berries deeper
in the mountains, and like loyal cows gone out grazing, they’ll return to their
land at the end of the day. He can run, he chooses not to. They’re all like
that.”
Garrick shook his head. “Damn.”
“Let’s make a promise,” Harry said. “No matter what happens, we’ll never
end up like that.”
Garrick smiled, provided with a beacon of normalcy amidst this nonsense,
and hope that, should all his plans collapse, should freedom never be granted
him and he’d forever be Liza’s slave, there was something of worth in that life
still. He clasped Harry’s hand. “Promise.”
Garrick and Martin scored themselves a night on the bed with Liza for
their better behavior. There, as they all kissed and licked Liza until she
slept, Garrick gave Martin a gesture, that he wanted a word. When at last she fell
asleep, the slaves released their day-long restraint and masturbated, allowed
their own release. They were forbidden to do so throughout the day as it would
hurt their ambitions. It also served to make the day’s work more rewarding and
purposeful, all the teasing and building given a meaningful release at the end,
rather than diminishing into a throwaway event they were generously awarded
several times a day.
After it had been silent for a while, Garrick lurched down from the
warmth of her inner thigh to her calf where Martin lay. He tapped his shoulder.
“You’ve got something?” Martin said, hushed, their heads right beside
one another.
“She told me that we’re going to town tomorrow.”
Martin got up from where he lay, half-sitting. “Town? We? All of us?”
“Asked the exact same thing, and she said yes. I don’t know if it
literally means that we all waltz into town as a company. We find the nearest
guard and scream for help otherwise. She can’t be that stupid, can she?”
“I pray she is. Maybe our sudden shift in attitude has gone over her
head, and she thinks we’re faithfully tagging along.”
“No way.”
“Who knows. She’s received nothing but unwavering obedience from these
dogs. It can have gotten to her, expecting us to fit right in with that.”
Garrick let a cautionary silence pass. No other presence emerged. “I
should hope so. I wanted you to know ahead of time, keep your mind sharp for
any way out.”
“Good.”
“Also, I spoke with Harry. He’s a good man.”
Martin nodded. “I’ve had conversations with him too. He would make a
fine friend, not just here, but outside these mountains.”
“I believe so too. Anyway, sleep well.” He patted Martin on the shoulder
and returned to her thigh. Despite having kidnapped and keeping him there
against his will, he found her thigh surprisingly hospitable, protective, a
comfort to lie under, and Garrick slept well.
***
Garrick should have known their visit to the town wouldn’t be what it
seemed. It did indeed entail the act of literally visiting a real town. Liza
put on a maroon, satin gown slashed with patterns of white diamonds, gathering
her brown hair into a small, braided bun over the head. She had a simple, white
beaded necklace, the gown reaching her shins, and she wore a pair of full, blue
slippers. However, the slaves wouldn’t be wearing anything different than their
naked skin, nor would they find themselves anyplace else. Liza wore bras and
panties, and within the bra Slave One and Two were cupped into a breast each.
Slave Five, Harry, was in her panties, and as if put on a cross, his legs were
tied together to the narrowing strap of the underwear arching underneath her
ass while his hands were secured up by the hemline. The panties were tight,
cradling him against her warm pussy and presenting his outline through the fabric,
concealed by the long gown. Inside her slippers, Slave Three and Four were
underneath the outer portion of each foot, their heads popping out between the
middle and fourth toes. Garrick and Martin were on the inner portion, the big
and second toe the neighbor to each of their cheeks. Garrick was on her left
foot while Martin was on the right.
Along with Harry in her panties, Garrick and Martin were gagged firmly,
unable to get a word out. Garrick and Martin’s arms were also tied around the
neck of her big and second toe, while Harry’s were to the edge of her panties,
unable to untie the muzzle. That even Harry received such confinements wiped
away any hope Garrick had of a lack of shrewdness from her end. Liza was aware
that even Slave Five, despite all his obedience, despite doing everything right
by the looks of it, had something else in his heart. She minimized any chance
of a slip-up as she began her promenade through the valleys of the Koll
mountains.
The slippers had straps to secure them to her feet, reducing any chance
of accidentally slipping off. Garrick experienced the roller coaster of her
weight bearing down on him, kicking off, then dragging backwards as the foot
barreled forward through the air, and into another step where her weight bore
down on him. The fluffy texture of her soles helped with the pressure, his body
sinking into her downy flesh, helping to absorb the pressure, and she
thankfully paid heed to them and tread lightly. The biggest fight for Garrick
was to secure his head in the hold between her big and second toe. Between was
far more preferable than underneath. Despite their plum underside, they would
add another source of pressure to his head which he’d rather avoid, especially
when it seemed he’d spend at least a couple of hours in here.
The insult to this embarrassing reality was the man Garrick shared the
role of instep with, Slave Four, whose head was between her third and fourth
toes. In the midst of her turbulent walk, he spent every available second of
head-freedom to dip his face between the toe gap and kiss, to suck on a portion
of toe flesh before the next phase of her walk stole away his voluntary
movement. Garrick thought he’d seen humiliation at its peak, but there was a
different taste to it now when Slave Four worked so diligently to show his love
to the toes and foot which held him captive, which crushed him, which paid no
heed to his pitiful existence. He looked like the pathetic lover kneeling in
the garden with a bouquet upheld to the fair maiden at the window, yet he
remained there for hours even after the rejection, the rain pouring upon him,
and there was no glorious redemption to the tale. He just sat there. Likewise,
Slave Four just worshipped, when the toes wouldn’t cease to step on and ignore
his appeals.
Another detail to this new condition was the building heat. How perfumed
and clean Liza’s feet had been upon the start of the journey didn’t matter. The
acrid sweat easily replaced the pleasantness, coating her toes and giving them
that slippery layer that, the one thing to appreciate, made their heads more
elusive to grip onto. Although his hardgum turned thick and shock-absorbing
from the moisture and Garrick’s arms were tied to her toes, this was the kind
of force he was looking for. If he could get the hardgum dry, the goal was to
end up here, and he found hope in the precedent this set, that she didn’t mind
stepping on them.
The susurrus of crinkling leaves and swaying treetops revealed there was
no proper path, which Garrick was aware of. The border to Eron wasn’t the most
attractive land across Gharn, especially for humans. It helped Liza maintain
her secret. However, this unspecified ‘town’ she mentioned came surprisingly
early. Maybe her feet had stomped the sense of time out of him, but perhaps
half an hour passed until the trees were no more and the sound she made were
allowed to spread out over an expanse, free from the valleys. Soon enough, he
even heard a girl speak to her mother, a giant child, along the trundling of
enormous wheels over a road drawn by the giant cattle.
The surrounding conversations drew the image of a street in town. The
walking had interruptions now, Liza standing by a stall as she purchased fruits
and nuts, Garrick’s body caving into her moist soles. The toes would
absent-mindedly flick his head around, squeeze him until his entire head was
submerged in sweaty, squishy flesh. He was grateful for the need to keep him
silent, as the muzzle prevented those toes and their bitter flesh to enter his
mouth. The opposite held true for Slave Four. His open mouth was a blessing,
using it to lap away at her toes and replace the sweat with his spittle.
“Liza, sweetheart, doesn’t it get lonely out there?” a woman selling
enormous watermelons said.
“I enjoy those mountains,” Liza said. “I have my guests, also, and when
I come in here, I fill up my need to see others with your delightful company.”
The vendor chuckled. “Oh, you charmer.”
Despite how forgettable Liza had made him inside her slipper, Garrick
could feel the direction of her comments, the sting of its provocation directed
right at him. To put Slave Four beside him was no accident, having Garrick hear
the sound of his worship and be reminded, every passing second, every wet slurp
and kiss, how he was choosing this when he had the freedom to scream for help.
This applied for everyone, Slave One and Two on her breast were likely nestling
against her nipples, while Martin in the other slipper likely had an equally
sloppy neighbor. And with how normal everyone in this town perceived Liza to
be, how Garrick himself wouldn’t find her odd amidst the crowd had he seen her
in her modest dress, everything compounded to the most striking taunt Garrick
had felt, slashing his ego to bits. She was a kidnapping, raping maniac, hiding
in plain sight before these normal people, and she brought them along to show
them how far the disguise could go. Garrick could feel the heart of her
intentions, flaunting their powerlessness before them and showing how close yet
far away they were.
As Liza was in her conversations, Slave Four was rocking up and down.
Garrick realized he was humping the ball of her foot, the perspiration making
their fleshy contact a slippery and easy business. He moaned with his mouth
full of her fourth toe, quivering, revealing the orgasm. Wasn’t this forbidden?
Could it be a cause for Liza’s rage later? Garrick wondered for how long he
could maintain this sharpness, this keen mind searching for a way out. Inside
her slippers, in this foot oven, it felt as if her sweat and weight were draining
it away.
Slave Four resumed cuddling with her toes after his orgasm, in what
could not possibly be pleasure, but a sense of duty. Liza moved closer to the
town square, the cacophony of conversation louder, a flute and drum instrument
playing a tune from somewhere. She sat on a bench, the weight relenting.
However, that didn’t mean they were left unbothered. With her slippers barely
touching the pavement, Liza planted her toes down on their heads and curled
them slightly, but repeatedly. Her toes remained, causing her soles to slide up
and down. At first, Garrick thought she was dancing to the tune, but the tempo
was out of sync.
Memories went to when Garrick lay on the blanket by the lakeside, under
her feet. With the memories, his manhood stirred, and with that, the
understanding of what was going on.
She was stroking their dicks.
There was nowhere to hide from the advance, no stopping these enormous
vehicles from moving back and forth. Garrick’s disappointment was proportional
to his lust’s increasing response, the heightened sensitivity of his manhood,
the miniscule motions his hips made to meet the surface of the soft soles. The
smallness of his motions was no comfort, their existence at all was his bane,
his mind screaming at him to stop but finding himself unable to. There was an
automaticity to his responding lust that made him wonder if Liza had any
magical powers, or if his base, manly desires were such a predictably
animalistic thing to manipulate.
Slave Four moaned, whispering, “I love you Mommy.” He moaned into her
third toe as he ejaculated once more. The soles were moving still. Garrick knew
she was after him and Marvin, and they were powerless to do anything.
Garrick tried to holler, shout, producing nothing but a dark, muted
groan through the muzzle. He squirmed to fight, put himself in another
position, but there was no avoiding it. No perfume or cleanliness was needed,
she’d brought him to where he could spurt his seed in that humid, sweaty,
pungent slipper. The big and second toes rubbed his cheeks when they noticed
his cum, commending him. He felt the weakness following orgasm, and with her
big toe lazily sliding up and down, it brought the comfort of a mother’s tender
touch, and under that, inside her slipper, Garrick dozed off into sleep.
Author's Notes:
It's been a long time, apologies for that. Last time we were around, Liza trapped all her slaves in her clothes while casually visiting town. Garrick and Martin specifically had to wear muzzles to not make any noise, all while being tied to her toes inside her slippers.
Much like the night when he hung from the wall, Garrick drifted in and
out of sleep, a few minutes aware of the foot oven he was cooking inside of and
the grappling toes toying with his head, while phasing out for the next few
minutes. Liza spent most of her time stationary, moving occasionally through
town, when Garrick would be awake the most, all of it averaging out to a steady
half-sleep where twenty minutes or so were easily skipped past. It was a
condition Garrick more than welcomed, to spend as little time present as
possible.
Slave Four wasn’t incessantly passionate in his worship. It would be
inhuman to. He joined Garrick in the languor, especially since he’d experienced
the tranquility of more than one orgasm. Though his instincts hadn’t left him
entirely. Slave Four would throw out a kiss or two, meet the toes in their
movement, and present his beard which Liza loved to scratch her toes against.
Garrick’s sharpest wakening came when Liza entered a tavern, the rowdy noise
ending his drowsiness with finality. His hair wasn’t exactly wet, but it gained
a wilted quality from the dampness, a bead of sweat trailing down his forehead
every now and then.
Liza sat down by a table in the heart of all the noise. She was with someone,
Garrick unable to hear the conversation, only discerning the hum of their
voices amidst it all. Occasional words were sharp, but none of it concluded a
sentence. Liza had no shortage of company beyond the Koll Mountains, it seemed,
and Garrick wondered how much they knew of her true nature, of the seven
enslaved humans currently trapped in her body. He was also surprised how well
she maintained her composure. This wasn’t the Liza he’d witnessed in the cabin.
That Liza wouldn’t be able to hold a straight face, with two slaves worshipping
her breast, another bunch her toes, and even with Slave Five tied to her
panties. This side of her scared Garrick, the confidence with which she’d taken
them out here without worrying about her crimes being unraveled. Such
confidence made him feel his chances of escaping her was lower.
Whenever Garrick had an itch on his face, the only way to remedy it was
to rub it away against her toes. She’d mistake it for affection, the toes
caressing him back. At this point, with how engaged she was in conversation and
how faint the movement of her feet were, Garrick wasn’t sure he was even
interacting with Liza. The toes had lost purpose in their movement,
disconnected from her consciousness, and how he received the absent-minded rubs
and squirms brushing past his face. When Garrick made a move against her toes,
they returned the act with automaticity.
Garrick wondered how Martin was handling this on the neighboring foot.
He couldn’t imagine it be any different. Though he did consider if Harry had it
worse being tied to her panties. Between her legs, he’d been spared her weight
while she walked, but now as she sat, her pussy was pancaking his whole body,
and despite how disciplined Liza’s character was and how she was resisting the
temptations, Garrick doubted she could control every part of her physiology.
That pussy was wet without a doubt, secreting its love juice all over Harry the
way a mouth drools while sucking on a treat.
The legs of the chair grated against the floor as Liza stood, her big
toe squashing Garrick’s face again. Garrick couldn’t tell if she said goodbye
to her current company and met another one, but greetings were exchanged, the
voices of the tavern all crashing into one another. Liza walked up a set of
stairs, Garrick feeling the wooden planks groaning underneath him, with him.
She walked down a hallway, the susurrus of the tavern falling behind them and
the local sounds made sharper. Now he could hear that someone else was with
her.
“This room,” the other woman said, a younger voice. They entered. The
door closed and shut the hubbub away, entering the room as low mutters through
the walls.
“You’ve got the money?” Liza said.
The clink of coins was unmistakable. “Go ahead and count it.” She tossed
the pouch, a metallic clink as Liza caught it. She opened and counted, fingers
rifling through in a series of chinking and clanging.
“Looks good.”
After a moment of silence, the other woman said, “Woah, you keep them in
your breast?” Liza must have brought one of the slaves out from her bra.
“Mommy? What’s wrong?” It was Slave Two’s voice.
“Be a good boy and relax.”
“You make them call you Mommy?” The tone was one of judgement. “You’re a
little twisted, lady.”
“I’m not sure you’re the one to deal out verdicts like that,” Liza said.
“Considering you’re paying to get to a taste of what they’re like yourself.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Sit tight, like Mommy said,” Liza said, and she handed Slave Two over
to the other girl. Liza leaned against the door as the buyer leaned on a piece
of furniture, its legs scraping over the floor.
“He doesn’t even seem fazed, hovering before my pussy. They’re
practiced.” A quivering breath escaped her. “Oh, lord above. He fits right
inside. You’ve got the door?”
“Don’t worry about that, no one’s coming inside. Just enjoy yourself.”
By the sounds of it, she was, her breaths pronounced and audible. A
short, excited giggle would slip out of her every now and then. “I can’t
believe it. He’s like a tool. I’m just… doing this to him, and he can’t do
anything. He’s not even complaining.” She giggled again, levelled out by a
satisfied hum. Slowly but surely, as she got on, a new sound emerged, the
slimy, smooth friction of her vaginal walls receiving its guest.
For a while now, Garrick had suffered the bare minimum of the humid
sweat and pressure that came with being stuck inside her slippers. But at least
he’d been left alone by her big and second toes, and unfortunately, that
changed now as the digits flexed and reached to grip his head. They were more
tense, clutching his skull and covering him in the pulpy toe flesh anew. He
could feel Liza’s lust build up, the cracks in the glass that was the composure
she’d maintained all this time. Watching the customer masturbating with Slave
Two was making Liza heat up from within, a boiling point. Liza sat on a chair,
granting her feet and especially toes greater dexterity to handle the four
slaves in her slippers, and they became the objects she unleashed her lust on.
The toes wrestled with their heads, smothering and smushing. Slave Three and
Four responded with the worship she was after while Garrick and Martin, their
mouths gagged, were acting as the ragdolls the toes wanted.
The masturbation from the customer grew, the rhythm increasing, the wet
claps of her slamming Slave Two inside her outcompeting the murmur from the
tavern easily. Even though a bit of rowdiness in one of the rooms would be
expected during an evening at the tavern, the customer put her hand in her
mouth, choking her own cries of pleasure. The pressure around Garrick’s head
peaked, the toes tucking him in underneath, packing his face against the soft
portion where the toes merged with the ball of the foot. He could tell how
desperately they wished his gag was loose, that his mouth was available for
them.
The toes relented, the soles sliding back and forth again. The movement
ripped their abdomens free from their adhesive marriage to the foot where their
semen had dried, though it seemed that supply would only be renewed.
“Mommy,” Slave Four moaned, hungrily making out with her fourth and
third toe, alternating between them with rapid, hungry kisses. Despite having
racked up more than two orgasms already, Slave Four released yet another one at
the mercy of her foot.
Garrick didn’t fight it this time. He did it with somewhat of a
nonchalant attitude, excited over teaching her a lesson. Liza must have worn
that smug smile when she scored the first orgasm out of him using nothing but
her foot, and now she was getting cocky, going for more. So it was with great
dread and yet another newfound level of embarrassment that Garrick helplessly
noticed his manhood stiffen, again. The moans of the customer played their
part, the sound of a lady in ecstasy as she masturbated.
He sprawled like a fish on land, grunting as much noise in objection as
the muzzle allowed, as the semi-painful ejaculation was brought out of him. The
big toe rubbed his cheek soothingly, and accordingly, his efforts died down as
his orgasm reached an end. He could feel the sentiment the toe’s caress
provided, telling him everything would be alright, welcoming him to the company
of slaves who loved her feet. ‘It’s ok,’ Liza’s voice in his head whispered.
‘You’re one of Mommy’s slaves now, and there’s nothing wrong with that.’ Those
words, the ones which his mind were playing to himself, did find a home. He
could feel his powerlessness now stronger than ever before, needing an immense
effort to pool his resolve and hope together.
The customer rode Slave Two into a few more climaxes before she was
done. Liza asked her if she was happy with the service, and with a giggle, the
girl answered she indeed was. Liza received Slave Two, wiped him clean, and put
him back inside her bra. Then she left the tavern, making her way out of town,
and once there her steps were quicker, giving them a more hectic ride inside
her slippers.
“Mommy can’t keep it in anymore,” she said in half a moan, with no ears
around as she neared the valley. Garrick knew what waited them when she came
home.
Chapter 10 by StoryTeller
Liza neared her secluded home on a late evening, and on the last stretch
back to her cabin, she moved like someone who urgently needed to use the
bathroom. The trees were shoved aside roughly, her feet slamming the slaves
inside her slippers as all her grace was gone, jogging back home.
“You little slaves…” Liza’s pant was half fatigue and half lust. “Mommy
needs a very good effort from you when we get home. Anyone who doesn’t do
everything I say will spend an entire week sleeping from the hooks.”
Garrick would be grateful to simply be out of this slipper, to lie on
that bed and sleep undisturbed. He’d do whatever she asked.
The sound of the waterfall by the lake was dimly present. Liza touched
herself as the cabin came into view, and as excruciating as it had been inside
her slipper, Garrick wasn’t sure being tied to her panties like Harry was much
preferable.
Liza hurried up the steps and barged through the front door, stumbling
through with one hand on her crotch and the other on her breast. The pouch of
coins she’d been paid were clamped under her armpit. She appeared feverish,
ailed by disease. Hand on the back of a chair for support, she bent forward to
unlatch the straps of her slippers. Then she kicked them free, allowing the
cool and fresh world to greet the four slaves thereunder. As she shuffled her
way to the hallway, they weren’t any less stuck to her soles, glued from the
cum and with Garrick and Martin even having their arms tied around the big and
second toes. Liza threw the pouch of coins to a table in the hallway, landing
with a metallic rustle.
Her destination was the special room Garrick and Martin had seen once,
with the small wooden poles on the ground, the large, gurney-looking table, the
vaulting bench, and the exceptionally large cabinet. The light from the evening
sky made the room semi-gloomy, the faint blue light preventing complete
darkness. Liza slammed the door behind her. With a tug, she drew the neckline
of the gown over her shoulder, then shimmied the other shoulder out of it. She
shivered and chortled maniacally, pulling the thing down, with hints of
frustration at the end as she kicked the darn thing off her calves.
Her bulging, bloated pussy was literally dripping, and half of Harry’s
body along most of the panties had been stuffed inside its ravenous mouth. His
head and left arm were sticking out from the pink lips, his hair hanging in
soaked tendrils.
“Every single one of you,” Liza said, biting her lip. “Lick!” Slave Four
and Three delivered their love to her fourth and third toes while One and Two,
their human-shaped prints visible on the bra, put their mouth on her nipples.
Lastly, Harry leaned up and caught her clit with his mouth. Liza’s spine
straightened like a rope pulled taut, a short cry slipping out of her, followed
by a laugh. She moved over to the cabinet, opening a compartment and bringing
out of a thick blanket. All the while, Liza was plagued by sporadic bouts of
involuntary movement as the mouths of those slaves delivered a symphony of
mouth-work that would sometimes converge into a single burst of pleasure,
making her wince as if braving to touch ice-cold water.
Liza whipped the blanket out over the floor, then brought a pillow out,
tossing it to the end of the rectangular blanket. She almost missed,
coordination thrown off by a zap of ecstasy. However, her head snapped down
quickly, eyes suddenly wide and strict. They alternated between Garrick and
Martin. “Slave Six and Seven. Did I not make myself clear?”
They wriggled as much as their bindings allowed them, shouting into
their muzzles.
“Oh, that’s right.” She held her anger at bay. Liza bent forward, her
stomach and breast fluttering with unexpected breaths. Her index and thumb
undid the tie around their head, tossing the muzzles aside. Garrick and Martin
licked her big toes, and that spiked Liza’s delight more than they expected.
Liza leaned against the cabinet, and Garrick realized the toes had likely never
gotten used to having a slave’s head near them for so long without being
kissed. They had been tantalized all this time.
Liza moaned, eyes closed with shoulders hunched up. “Naughty little
slaveboys.” Liza proceeded with her preparations, bringing out several candles
and placing them an arm’s length away from the blanket’s periphery. Using
matches, she lit them one after the other, and despite having trouble moving
from the paralyzing pleasure, she whispered at them not to stop. Ten candles
were lit around the blanket, and Liza drew the curtains of the window. The candle-lit
glow provided a cozy, romantic air in the room.
Liza drew her bead necklace over her head and tossed it to the pile her
gown was left in. She undid the braided bun and let her brown hair fall down,
fluffing it out with her fingers like a lady preparing herself for a ball. Liza
eased the bra down, releasing those globular breasts, and indeed, much like the
four slaves at her feet, Slave One and Two were glued to her breast from their
own dried cum. Her nipples were stiff, the slaves taking care of them with
their mouths. “Ah, fuck.”
The panties were the last obstruction, along with Harry who was tied to
them. Biting her lips, she pulled the panties along Harry free from her
gluttonous pussy, fingers twiddling with his bindings. It wasn’t quite frustration,
but a bubbling of hot passion, and Liza bit her teeth and grunted. She clawed
her panties and tore them apart, freeing Harry that way. “You love Mommy’s soft
flesh, don’t you?” The question was directed downwards, over the landscape of
her gigantic body, prickled with worship. She reared her head up with an
excited shriek, stepping past the candles and lying down on the blanket,
putting the pillow under her head.
There was no more wait. Liza pumped Harry in and out of her pussy with a
speed like it were the ignition put to the gunpowder, and there it became clear
how this had been on her mind every minute of her time in town. Garrick
couldn’t fathom how someone as horny as Liza could contain herself throughout
the day, and now she was compensating for it with vigorous energy.
She moaned the lord’s name as the orgasm crashed through her, her
abdomen tense and the muscles outlined. Dimly through her overpowering presence
could Garrick hear the tiny, pathetic licks and kisses they all gave her.
“Ah!” She shrieked, masturbating right through to the second and third
orgasm. “You’re mine! All of you little slaves, you’re mine, now and until the
end of time! You…” A shrill, girly cry tore out as she arched her back,
unrelenting on both Harry and her pussy. Her other hand rubbed circles around
the clit, and a gusher of her love liquids shot right out. “AAAAAAAAAAH!” If
someone were to listen from beyond the door, they’d believe it to be a torture
chamber as Liza crashed through a fourth and fifth orgasm. For two minutes
straight, she squirted, the force of it alternating between a jet shooting out
beyond the blanket and the steady stream threading down under the curvature of
her cheeks and dripping underneath. From between the V-shaped spread of her
legs, the blanket was stained dark, two of the candles put out from her shots.
Garrick didn’t need to do much anymore, the toes were clenched tight, locking
his head. At first they acted as shields from the squirt, but eventually it was
so profuse that her feet were struck plenty and it coursed down between her
toes.
She used the day-long build-up to its fullest and extracted as many
orgasms as she could from the situation. Towards the end, she shoved Harry all
the way in, ripped Slave One and Two free from her breast and put them on the
pillow, then put it between her legs. She humped the two of them against the
pillow for the last orgasm, ensuring they wouldn’t miss out on her sweet
liquid. After that, her efforts died down, falling asleep with a drunken smile.
End Notes:
We're nearing the end of the first part of this story. The next chapter is a short one, and will come out tomorrow!
Chapter 11 by StoryTeller
The following morning was peaceful, thankfully. Liza’s energy was not
inexhaustible. After breakfast, Liza gathered wood from the trees near the
house, while Martin, Garrick, and Harry loitered by the lakeside. Liza had half
a watchful eye over them, but mostly it was the other slaves, who’d holler if
they wandered too far away.
“It’s insane, you can’t make sense of time and space,” Harry said,
answering one of Martin’s questions of how it was like to be used in Liza’s pussy.
“You close your eyes and mouth, tightly, and you just wait it out.”
“I guess getting fucked like that is our new normal,” Martin said,
throwing a rock across the water.
Garrick snorted. “I would have contested that a few days ago. But what
is there to say now? The time from when we walked towards Eron, it feels like
an eternity ago when it was just days. In such a short time, she’s gotten us
used to getting fucked, licking her toes, everything. It won’t be long until we
call her Mommy like the rest of them, the way they do, and fawn over her. I
mean, look…” Garrick didn’t need to shield his eyes from the sun, covered by
the clouds. “Hardgum will only dry if the weather allows it, and… Uhh, that
entire plan just sounds like a pipedream at this point.”
“Listen to you guys,” Harry said. “It’s as if our roles have reversed
and I’m the hopeful one. It hasn’t even been a week of you being here. Did you
expect to escape so quickly?”
“I would have liked that, yes.”
“It’ll come. If you’re determined and keep on it, you’ll find a way. Men
have escaped the most absurd prisons, in ways you would believe are completely
fictional. And yes, it was without magic. She’s keen and smarter than she lets
on, but she’s just one mind. It will come.”
Martin chuckled. “That gives me hope. Not just your words, but that you
can say it after all the time you’ve spent here.”
“Exactly. And, listen, I may have referred to her behavior as innocent
horniness before. But what I mean by that is, if we were to be here for another
year, we won’t be starving, we will see the sun and the beautiful skies it
inhabits. We will feel the grass under us, hear the waterfall crash. Prisoners
would dream of this. The daily life we go through, licking her and all that,
see it as a day of work.”
It went quiet at first.
“He’s right,” Martin said. “The painful part about this is imagining a
lifetime here, as her slaves. But we’re not spending a bloody lifetime here,
are we? We have to escape. But we aren’t in a rush.”
“Slaves!” Liza clapped her hands in the distance. “I want you all at the
porch in ten minutes. Mommy needs you to rub some lotion in on her legs.”
“A day of work…” Garrick repeated to his friends beside him. “I
suppose.” The puff of clouds shrouding the sun drifted aside, and the rays
blared down, the water glimmering underneath it and sitting over Garrick’s skin
like a thin, warm veil. There was nothing wrong with this moment, he could
appreciate that.
They would escape; Garrick accepted no other future. However, for now,
this was the life he had, and that wasn’t the end of the world.
End Notes:
That marks the end to the first part of this story. The conclusive sequel is slightly longer than this one, and it's already finished! I'll release it on here gradually, but if you don't want to wait and wish to support me, you can get it here on my gumroad: angvar.gumroad.com/l/wdyns
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.