How did it come to this?
Martin asked himself numbly, grunting under the weight of the
heavy iron chains that bound him. Glowing blue runes ran up and down
them, keeping him from summoning even a spark of magic as the burly man
at the front of the column cracked a whip.
“Keep moving you lazy slugs!” he bellowed.
There were cries of fear from the men, women, and children in
line behind him, and the bandits laughed and jeered in response. Their
captors trotted their horses alongside the column, some on foot and
brandishing cruel looking swords, axes, and a handful of older looking
flintlock guns. The sun was hot, bearing down on them and making the
journey all the more miserable.
“So what do you think Cam?” one of the bandits asked, coming up
alongside the leader, “Do we bring this group north to the sea? Or are
we going south to the lizards?”
Cam was an ugly man with an uglier smile, and the grin he gave
the few dozen prisoners sent a chill up Martin’s spine, “I don’t mind
giving the peasants to the lizards, the mage though… I feel like we’ve
got to really search for a buyer for him.”
I’m not much of a mage,
Martin thought sullenly. After flunking out of the Imperial
Academy he’d wandered to the far eastern border, looking for work and to
forget his troubles. When the bandits had fallen upon the small border
town he’d been staying in, he’d been too startled to manage much of a
fireball, letting himself be captured and chained easily.
This is the end,
he thought with a sigh.
You were fine at studying theory and reading up on all the
perfect spells… but when it came time to use them, you chickened out.
He looked up at the blazing sun, cursing his own cowardice.
…
Dura lay flat across the grassy rise, shielding her eyes from
the sun with her hand as she observed the slave convoy. The green
skinned woman’s axe lay heavy across her back as she slowly crawled
through the brush, trying to get a better view.
Hmm…
she thought,
yeah, those look like humies.
The orc had only seen a few humans in her life, almost none of
them journeyed far into orc controlled territories on the high plains.
No, her experience with the shorter, frailer race was mostly from
stories she’d heard, plenty of orcs ventured out into human lands and
came back with tales of their adventures.
Whole massive cities full of sexy humies, all of whom want to submit to an orc master or mistress,
she chuckled. Was it true? Probably not, if humies really
were
eager to be servants to the greenskins, surely they’d have come
to the orcs rather than the other way around. Still, a woman had to
investigate such things for herself,
there’s a truth behind every wild legend and rumor,
she thought with a smile.
She frowned as she studied the group. The chains in particular
piqued her interest, and as the column got closer, she could hear the
wailing and the crying of the captured prisoners.
Don’t like this,
she thought, feeling anger rising in the pit of her stomach,
don’t like this one bit…
Dura began counting the men with weapons, swearing under her breath when she realized she was outnumbered ten to one.
They’ll be up this way soon, might as well hit them with the element of surprise!
She grinned and reached for her axe, feeling the blue sparks of magic dance along her fingers as she readied her charge.
…
Martin jumped, causing the chains to clatter and clang as a
ferocious battle cry rang out over the plains. A fireball rocketed out,
catching the bandit leader with the whip in the chest, sending him
flying from the saddle with a grunt of pain. He threw himself to the
ground, shaking in terror as his other captors unfurled their weapons,
charging towards…
Her.
He gulped as he took in the towering green skinned woman. She
was easily a head taller than any of the bandits, and while she had a
pleasing and curvaceous feminine form, her toned muscles were visible as
she lifted an axe over her head with a roar. She had a small scar
across her cheek, occasionally obscured by the long dark green almost
black hair that grew wildly over her shoulders.
The bandits parted before her like water as she cut them down,
knocking them from their saddles with impossibly well placed strikes, or
holding her hand out and letting blue lightning arc across the grass.
Gunshots rang out as the bandits fired their flintlock arsenal at her,
but with a chant and a raised hand the orc stopped the bullets in
midair, letting them fall.
“Lookout!” Martin called fearfully as he saw another bandit level a gun barrel behind her.
The crack of the shot rang out, causing his heart to fall, but
the orc woman just stumbled, grinning through the pain as she circled
around to the assailant.
“You better reload that boomstick real quick humie!” she
bellowed, chasing after him. The man screamed in fear, throwing his gun
down and sprinting as fast as he could across the prairie. The rest of
the bandits took his lead, fleeing in panic in all directions rather
than continue to face the green woman. “Go on, cowards!” she bellowed,
beating her axe across her chest, “run!”
The captured townsfolk cheered, and the orc woman grinned,
bending over to pick up a string of keys one of the bandits had dropped.
One by one she went down the line, undoing their shackles, finally
ending at Martin’s own.
“A mage huh?” she said, opening his shackles and glancing at the
glowing blue runes. “That lot didn’t seem so tough; did they take you
asleep?”
“Uh, n-no Miss Orc,” he stammered. Up close she was even more
impressive, and the slightly earthy scent of her sweat filled his
nostrils and caused him to lean in involuntarily.
“Overwhelm you? All come at you at once?” she questioned, frowning.
“T-They just sort of, startled me, too much to cast spells I mean,” he admitted, his face red.
He’s got a case of the yips,
Dura thought with a growl,
poor little humie…
He was a cute one, only coming up to her chest, with a mop of
the straw colored hair that marked him as a northerner. She raised an
eyebrow as she realized just how flustered he was, how his eyes were
roaming her body in a way that a man’s eyes did.
I suppose humies do like greenskins after all…
The rest of the captured prisoners were beginning the long walk
back to their village, thankfully no more than a few hours journey. They
called farewells and thanks, a few fished in their pockets and left
coins, mostly small coppers, in a pile for Dura, who grinned broadly and
thanked each of them for the trinkets in turn. Soon they were all dots
in the distance, save for Martin, who hung behind uncertainly, unsure if
he wanted to return with them after his failure to help defend their
village.
“Well uh… thanks again,” Martin said sheepishly, turning to go, but Dura put a hand on his shoulder, halting him.
“I think humie,” she began with a grin, “that maybe you should come with me.”
Martin gulped, “I-I don’t know about-“
“Cast a fireball,” she ordered, “go on, do it!”
He sighed, feeling his heart pick up as he shakily raised a
hand. He grimaced, it was an easy spell, one he knew he could do under
most conditions, but under the stern gaze of the orc he just…
couldn’t.
A pair of sparks and a small puff of black smoke danced along his fingers, and he sighed.
“Hey, cheer up, I’m just the thing you need!” she beamed,
slapping him across the back hard enough that he stumbled forward
slightly. “I’m my clan’s best battlemage, and I’ve been hoping to pick
up a cute humie for adventures, wild sex, and treasure!”
“Well I could use some tutelage,” Martin nodded, then frowned. “Wait, what was that second part?”
“And don’t worry,” Dura continued, ignoring his question as she
scooped up the small pile of coppers, “I’m not greedy, I’ll share with
you fifty-fifty!” With a slap that stung she slammed a few of the
pennies into his palm, grinning, “So what do you say?”
She did take on a small army of bandits by herself,
Martin gulped,
and it’s not like I have a lot of friends, family, or work waiting for me anywhere else…
He knelt, “I accept your offer, I humbly pledge my service in-“
“Whoa whoa whoa humie,” Dura laughed, “That’s one of
your
people’s ways of showing fealty, I think we should start off
with one of mine!” She pointed down at her sandaled green feet, grinning
widely, “Plant a kiss there and
then
start with the talk about how you’re going to serve me!”
Martin grimaced, the dirty pair of leather-thonged sandals had
clearly been worn in a long trek across the vast prairie, and as he
lowered his face down to her toes the earthy musk of dirt and sweat
mixed together hit his nose. Like before he felt his heart pick up, and
he realized that his manhood was stiffening, eager to be free of the
situation he quickly planted a peck on Dura’s toes, the salty taste of
the grime on them clinging to his lips a moment as he looked up at her
for approval.
“Now what kind of kiss was that?” she smirked, crossing her
arms, “Go back for another! And use your tongue, like you would with a
lover!”
He blinked, “You’ve got to be kidd-“
He grunted as she pushed his head back down to her feet, and as
the pheromone laden sweat hit his nose he found himself inhaling deeply,
feeling his blood run hot. The orc chuckled smugly, then giggled at the
sensation as his tongue ran over her feet, cleaning her toes and
tasting the sour salty sweat that clung to her green skin.
“Much better,” she said, pushing him away a moment. He watched
as she sat down on the grass, sighing contentedly as she peeled off her
worn pair of sandals, wiggling her green toes playfully at him as she
stretched her legs out before him. “Come give them a rub while we talk!”
Martin nodded, moving forward and taking the large green foot
into his lap. His fingers ran over her sole, eliciting a groan of
pleasure as the orc leaned back, arms behind her head as she enjoyed his
work. Her feet were well soiled from her journey, and the grime stuck
to his thumbs as they traced along her arches. Some distant part of him
knew it had to be the infamous orcish pheromones working on his mind,
but he wanted nothing more than to press his face against them,
worshiping them…
“What do we have here?” Dura teased, letting her other foot
drift a little further into his lap. He gasped as the tip of her toe
playfully traced along his erection, poking almost painfully up through
his pants. “I guess it’s true what they say, humies just can’t get
enough green, huh?”
“I’m sorry,” Martin stammered, “I-It must be the pheromones-“
“Yeah, orc musk makes you humans into dumb horny bastards,” she chuckled, “but it only makes you want things you would have
already
wanted, so don’t go telling your humie friends I brainwashed you or nothin’.”
He frowned, “Y-You’re saying I-“
“You were always going to be a foot boy, yeah,” Dura laughed,
“Now let’s talk about your problems!” He gasped as her toes gripped his
erection, toying with it again and sending a wave of pleasure through
his spine. “You have plenty of magical talent, I can feel it on you...
you seem like you
know
your magic, so what’s stopping you from making lightning bolts fly when you’re in trouble?”
“I-I just
oh gods,
” he breathed in as the green foot slowly circled his member, rubbing the fabric of his trousers against it, “I-I just-“
“Freeze up, stutter, yeah,” she nodded, “I used to have that problem actually.”
“Y-You did-“ he couldn’t finish the question, doubling over as
the orc woman’s foot casually brought him to orgasm. Without thinking he
brought the foot he’d been rubbing up to his face, inhaling deeply and
letting the wave of pleasure wash over him. Slowly he came down, his
senses returning as he looked at the green skinned appendage in his
hand, then slowly down to its owner, who was giving him a smug grin.
“I’m sorry,” he started, but she just laughed.
“Don’t be sorry, don’t spend so much time second guessing! When you’re doing what you’ve got to do, just
act!
You wanted my feet in your face,” she twirled her foot playfully, “so you put one there!”
“I… guess,” Martin said.
“Why don’t we try it for magic,” Dura said, “whenever you feel
yourself starting to freeze up, just remember your face right here!” she
grinned and pointed to her green sole.
“You want me to think of your feet when I’m trying to cast spells?” Martin asked skeptically.
Dura shrugged, “You need
something
that just makes you power through those feelings, now for me it was turkey legs!”
“Turkey legs?” Martin asked, raising an eyebrow.
Dura rolled her eyes, “just something that makes you happy,
something to reward yourself with!” She stood up, looming over him and
blocking the noonday sun. Slowly she raised her bare foot up, pushing it
on his chest and driving him to the ground. Martin grunted as she
pressed her weight down on his chest, pinning him in place and giving
him a wonderful view of her foot, which was quickly causing him to
become aroused again.
“Let’s try that fireball again,” Dura said, inching her foot up his body.
Martin sighed, holding out his hand. He focused, mentally reciting the incantation, trying to fight the urge to look up at Dura.
It’s hopeless, I can’t do this while she’s watching-
His thought was cut off by a sweaty green sole pressing down on
his face. The orc woman playfully dragged her foot over his nose, his
mouth, letting the grime soak into his hair. A moment later the smell of
smoke joined the earthy musk of orcish sweat, and Martin’s eyes shot
open, looking in awe at a small patch of burning grass just a few feet
from his hand.
“Good job!” Dura said, stepping off of him. She waved her hand, wordlessly extinguishing the flames with her own spell.
“I-I did it?” he stammered.
“Now if you could do that without kissing my feet, you’d be a
halfway decent mage,” Dura grinned. “I’ve got to say, I kind of like
this, my very own pet humie, one who’s so in love with my feet that he
can’t even cast a spell unless he’s thinking about them!”
Martin leaned up, still stunned as he looked at the patch of
blackened grass, “I can’t believe it,” he looked up at the smug orc,
“I-I’ll do whatever you say! I’ll be your apprentice, your slave!”
“Oh I’m
definitely
going to need you to say that in front of my sisters back home,”
Dura laughed. “Now that we’ve agreed you’re my personal humie, what do
you say we have some more fun?”
Martin nodded, licking his lips eagerly, “W-What do you want me to do?”
Dura clapped her hands together, muttering a series of spells
Martin didn’t recognize. There was a flash, and the world spun. He
stumbled backward a moment, suddenly in a strange landscape of towering
amber pillars… no, strands, strands of
grass.
If that’s the grass, then I’m…
The world shook as a pair of bare green feet the size of wagons
stomped down into the dirt on either side of him. His gaze slowly traced
up as he took in the hundred foot tall form of the orc woman, the magic
still dancing along her faraway fingers from the spell.
No, she’s not big,
he gulped,
I’m small!?
“I’ve heard a lot of people back home love wrestling humies,”
She chuckled in a low voice, “Win or lose, you’re usually pretty worked
up by the end of it.”
“I-I think you’d have a slight advantage now!” Martin shouted.
Dura shrugged, “I was thinking you’d just wrestle one part of me, your
favorite
part?” Her massive foot came towards him, her big toe curling
downward and then flicking him slightly, causing him to tumble over with
a grunt. “Oh,” she said with a grin, “since my foot’s naked, it’s only
fair that you’re naked too, so strip!”
Martin gulped, pulling his pants down and quickly tossing his
shirt away. He felt the wind on his naked body, shivering slightly as he
looked up at the curling toes that Dura expected him to grapple with.
He tried to stand up straight, readying himself as if he were preparing
to wrestle any other opponent.
The wall of green swept into him, a mere tap of Dura’s foot, but
a powerful body slam to him. He grunted, gripping her toes and trying
to dig into the dry dirt as she playfully gripped his waist between her
toes, squeezing him like a wrestler’s iron grip as she dragged him
through the loose earth.
“You’re going to have to do better than that humie,” she
laughed. She stopped a moment, leaning her head back. “Pfft” Martin’s
eyes went wide as the glob of spit rocketed down to him, and he cried
out in surprise when it burst on his face, soaking him and making the
dirt and grime of her feet stick to him even more.
Martin tried to wipe the slimy spit out of his face while the
toes rolled over him, occasionally pinning him again, only to lift,
giving him a few precious seconds to scrabble across the soil before
coming down again.
“Hmm… something’s poking my sole,” Dura grinned. Martin grunted
as she pinned him on his back again, letting her toes slide down. He
managed to get his eyes open again just as another warm glob of spit
crashed into him, this time landing on his crotch and soaking his nether
regions as her toes pressed closed around his revived manhood.
“Oh gods,” Martin groaned as the massive green digits gripped
his shaft, slowly working up and down. Her ample spit provided more than
enough lubricant, and soon he was panting, unable to think clearly as
each slow up and down stroke over his body sent electric jolts of
pleasure up his spine.
“Now whenever you’re having trouble with your spells, remember your happy place,” Dura said, “
Right here,
underneath my feet.”
Martin’s back arched, and he gritted his teeth with a sigh of
pleasure as Dura’s foot brought him over the edge a second time, the
delicate motion of her toes never once slowing as she milked the tiny
man of all he had in him.
Shadows flickered over his blurry vision as his climax ended,
and as his eyes cleared he could see the gigantic orc woman squatting
down over him, her green face grinning broadly at his stunned and
defeated condition.
“We’d best get going,” she said, “stick with me, and we’ll have your spells flying in no time…”
Her hand came down, and for a moment Martin thought that maybe
she’d unshrink him, but instead her fingers curled under his back,
lifting him off the ground slightly and laying him across Dura’s
sandals.
“Dura,” he started, “what are you-“
“Shh…” she whispered, taking a few strands of leather cord from
her belt. Martin squirmed feebly as she slowly wrapped the cord around
the sandal, looping it in with the thong and the back straps in a way
that forced his arm’s and legs together, and then held him tight against
the sandal’s insole. Next the orc slid her cottage sized foot into the
sandal, riding it up to the thong. She pressed down, causing the tiny
human to grunt as her surprisingly soft foot sandwiched him against the
worn leather. She reached down to pull on the straps, causing Martin to
wheeze as the pressure increased with each tightening of the footwear.
“You’ve had a rough day, you just relax there.”
Her toes came down gently on either side of his head as she took
her first step, causing Martin to gasp as what felt like the world’s
most powerful and all consuming hug pressed across his body. Tight
against her sole, he had nowhere to go, bound tightly in leather cord
that was thin enough to be used as shoelace but at his size was as thick
and powerful as the chains which had bound him earlier in the day.
The orc woman’s feet began to seep more oily sweat as she went,
quickly coating Martin in the mixture and instantly bringing him back to
the peak of arousal again.
The orcish pheromones,
he realized,
if they’re really this powerful then-
He groaned as her sole slid against his manhood with each rise
and fall of the giant foot, pressing his back into the leathern sandal
insole in a way that made it feel as though someone were clapping him
hard across the back. Martin began to wonder how long he would last,
how many steps will it be before she brings me off again? How long until I get hard again after that? A hundred steps? Fifty?
Dura stopped, scooping up his tiny clothes and slipping them
into her pocket, grinning as she started on the journey towards the
human border. Each step was a thrilling reminder of the human she’d
taken into her service, one who she couldn’t wait to explore and train
in both magical arts, and carnal ones.
…
Weeks had passed since Martin had found himself the apprentice,
servant, and lover of Dura, the orc battlemage. Her teachings had been…
unusual,
each night as they made camp he’d been forced to recite spells
while he rubbed her feet, a complete incantation being rewarded with
time at small size beneath them, a place he’d increasingly found himself
longing for.
Martin climbed behind Dura, grunting with exertion from the
heavy axe on his back, “I-Is this weapon really necessary?” he asked
over the rising wind of the peak.
Dura sighed, tapping her own massive axe, “Look humie, not
everything
can be killed with a spell, you want other options!”
“But it’s so heavy!”
“That’s the idea,” she laughed.
“What’s supposed to be up in this cave anyways?” Martin gasped,
panting as he hefted himself up to the rocky ledge. The black chasm in
the side of the hill was like an open mouth, one that filled him with
trepidation as he peered into it.
“Dunno,” Dura admitted, unfurling her own axe, “but those
farmers said they’ll give us a bag of coin and all the beef we can eat
if we get rid of whatever’s taking their livestock.”
“What if it’s a vampire?” Martin asked, readying his axe as the pair entered the dark cavern.
“You hit it with a brick,” Dura said with a shrug.
Martin balked, “a
brick
?”
“Well I don’t carry holy water or sigils or any of that on me,”
Dura explained, “so if you can’t kill a vampire, you’ve got to make him
wish he could die, hit him with a brick enough times and he’ll piss
off.” She thought a moment, “honestly, just beating the tar out of it
with a brick makes almost anything piss off, even if a brick can’t
necessarily
kill
it.”
“I… suppose I wouldn’t know,” Martin replied.
“Eh, maybe you’ll find out today?” She turned towards the deeper
parts of the cave, “Whoever’s in here, get your ass on out before I
start throwing fireballs!” Dura bellowed.
The pair were greeted by a screech like iron nails across a
glass plane. Martin found himself involuntarily stepping backwards as a
massive tentacled
thing
came into view, writhing gelatinous limbs stretched out from a
crablike hard shelled body held up by countless spindly chitinous legs.
“B-Blast it with a fireball!” Martin screamed.
“Now wait a minute, don’t judge a book by it’s cover,” Dura
laughed, readying her axe regardless of her words, “He might be nice!
Hey, crab-thing, are you-“ She was cut off by another blood curdling
scream as it scuttled forward, tiny clacking mouths opening along the
tentacles. “Nevermind, he’s a cunt,” Dura shouted, swiping at the first
of the tentacles that came within reach.
Martin held out his hand, grinning as a bolt of lightning filled
the air with an ozone smell as the monster staggered under the impact.
“There we go!” Dura shouted with a grin, “heads up, you’ve got his attention!”
He yelped in surprise as one of the tentacles whipped across his
forearm, drawing a thin line of blood before he could lift the axe. In a
clumsy stroke he hacked into it, causing it to scuttle away with a
*clickclack* sound that almost hurt to hear.
“Hit him with an airburst!” Dura shouted, “quick, before he gets away!”
Martin lifted his hands, letting the magic flow through his fingertips as he created the vauum,
I’ve got to hurry, I’ve got to-
He tensed, realizing he was freezing up again,
No!
he begged himself, his heart racing,
Not not, not-
Dura was suddenly at his size, one of her sandals in hand. With a
smirk she pressed it against his face, bringing the top just under his
eyes as she pressed the sweat soaked leathery insole hard against his
nose.
Okay,
he thought suddenly, weaving the rest of the spell together.
There was a
*boom*
and a second later a rain of purple goo splattered the cavern
walls. Martin couldn’t help but watch, stunned, as what was left of the
thing tumbled over, the crablike legs twitching a few final times before
it went still.
I did that,
he thought numbly,
I actually managed an airburst spell…
“Good work,” Dura said, slapping him hard on the ass, stopping
for a long grope that brought him out of his thoughts. “Next time
though, try to do it without sniffing a girl’s footwear, yeah?”
“I-I’m getting better about it,” Martin stammered.
“Yeah I know,” Dura said with a grin, “and you even managed to use the axe! I’ll make a battlemage out of you yet!”
“What the hell is this thing?” Martin said, walking forward and poking the corpse with his foot.
“Well there are some cow bones over here,” Dura said with a
shrug, “so I say we make up a name for it so the farmers think we know
what we were doing. The crabtopus, sound good?”
“Crabtopus, got it,” Martin nodded.
“Say,” Dura said with a grin, “do you think it’s edible?”
…
The pot full of water bubbled over the warm glow of the small
campfire, the segments of crablike leg floating amidst the handful of
meat seasonings the pair had paid entirely too much for a few towns
back.
As was their usual campsite routine, Dura lay relaxing by the
flickering firelight. Martin slowly worked his fingers over her feet,
eliciting a pleased sigh from his mistress.
“Illusion spell,” she muttered, flexing her soles against hist thumbs as she gave the command.
Martin concentrated, muttering a spell under his breath and
causing a transparent version of himself to walk by their campsite,
turning and giving the orc woman a wink before vanishing.
“Flirty,” She chuckled, “I like that.” She sat up, regarding her
human pet as he diligently worked on her sore feet. He noticed her
watching, and with a smile bent down, giving the top of the green toes a
simple kiss. “Keep doing that,” she ordered, reaching down to unbuckle
her belt. Martin’s eyes went wide as her pants slowly slid down her
toned body, revealing the dark hairs around her pink slit, already
glistening with arousal from his displays of submission.
The wafting smell of her sex enticed him almost as much as the
pungent odor of her feet, and he gazed longingly at her, his manhood
already straining against his rough pants. For her part Dura simply
chuckled, continuing to play with herself and watching as the human man
worshiped her toes.
“I’ve been thinking,” she gasped, biting back a moan of pleasure, “I’m ready to head home.”
He stopped, gazing her in shock, “B-But there’s so much more to-“
“Did I tell you to stop kissing?” she grinned. He paused, but
slowly brought his mouth down again, placing slow kisses across her
soles. “That’s better,” she said smugly, biting her lip as her finger
traced gently over her clit, “Now like I said, I’m homesick, I feel like
going back to Orcish territory… but I want you to come with me!”
“Yes!” he blurted out, “of course!”
“I like the answer,” she growled, “but these damn orcish
pheromones just turn your little humie brain to jelly…” She leaned
forward, bringing the wet finger that had been in her womanhood up just
under his nose. The sharp pungent musk of her juices almost made him see
stars as she teasingly traced the wet finger under his nostril. “Look
at that,” she mused, “you’d agree to be my slave forever now, wouldn’t
you?”
“G-Go get the chains!” he stammered.
She rolled her eyes and grinned, “Clean my fingers, now!” He
leaned forward, his mouth eagerly closing over the green digits and
sucking every last drop of her cum off of them. “The only way I can be
sure I’m getting a straight answer,” she mused, “is to really
wear you down,
make sure that when I ask if you want to come with me the second
time, you’ll be so drained that your cock won’t have any say in the
decision.” With a wet *pop* she pulled her fingers out of his mouth,
laying back and spreading her legs as she finished kicking her trousers
off. “Now, taste it from the source!” she grinned.
Martin leapt forward, burying his face between her legs as her
thighs clamped around his ears, sealing him in while licked eagerly from
her slit. Dura let out a long gasp, gripping his hair tightly and
grinding him against herself. Each drop of her potent juices was driving
the human mad, and he fought for breath as he consumed her wetness like
a man dying of thirst.
“Fuck humie, that’s one hell of a tongue!” she grunted. A moment
later her thighs quivered, clenching a final time around Martin’s head
with enough strength that for a moment Dura worried she’d hurt him, but
then she collapsed, panting as the human looked up, his face wet with
her juices.
“You taste divine,” he whispered, “every part of you always tastes divine… I’m going back-“
“G-Give a girl a minute!” Dura laughed, still sucking in air as she tried to recover.
He licked his lips, savoring the flavor of her womanhood still
lingering on them, then started inching closer, drawn by the
intoxicating orcish pheromones. Dura noticed, and with a chuckle held
her hand out towards him. Sparks danced across her fingers, and there
was a flash, and Martin’s clothes hung in the air a moment before
descending, empty, to the cavern floor.
Dura watched, pleased with herself, as the tiny lump of the
human wiggled through his oversized clothes, poking his head out at the
bottom of his shirt and looking up at her in confusion. She stood up,
looming over him and giving him a good view of her still wet slit in the
flickering firelight, with a smug grin she lifted her foot high, as
though she were stomping a bug.
“D-Dura wait-“
Her foot slammed downward, only slowing at the last minute,
pinning him against the fabric of his field sized shirt instead of
splattering him like a ripe grape.
“Scared ya, didn’t I?” she taunted, rolling the ball of her foot
over him and enjoying the feel of his tiny erection against her smooth
sole.
“Yes,” Martin moaned, gripping her toes as her foot roughly
brushed across him again, the massive green toes his lovers as they
playfully pinched and released his body.
“When we get back home, I’m going to have to let some of my
friends have a turn with you,” she said in a husky voice. “What do you
think?” He could only moan in response, ravaged by the enormous green
foot as she roughly scrunched it over him, coating him in the thick soup
of enchanting foot sweat. “Sounds like a yes!” she grinned, “And then
we’ll start the ceremonies…”
“C-Ceremonies?” Martin managed.
“Oh yes,” Dura laughed, “I think I want to be with you for life,
marriage tends to be a long drawn out thing with us, there are a lot of
rituals, commitments… Finishing the damn thing can take some couples
years!”
Years!?
Martin imagined spending years on the plains with Dura, years building up to…
Well, why not?
A lucid part of him argued,
What do you have here holding you back?
“Now one of my favorite parts,” Dura said, biting her lip as she
roughly
dragged her foot over him again, rolling him along the shirt
fabric, “Is the opening declarations, it’s when you have to compose a
poem and mention what parts of me you like best!”
“Y-You’re strong, brave-“ he started, closing his eyes as her
foot came back for another pass, causing him to gasp and his thoughts to
flee as the grainy sweat stung his eyes and the skin pressed his
manhood.
“Nope, that kinda thing is for later,” Dura grinned, “the first one’s just the
lewd
bits… And I want you to compose one for my feet!”
“What!?” Martin stammered, “Y-You can’t seriously expect me to-“
Dura’s big toe pressed over his face, covering it easily and silencing
him while giving him a mouthful of the earthy grime coating it.
“Yes, it will be before all of the tribe’s women,” she said smugly, “as is tradition. You will talk, no
sing,
I want you to
sing
for them of how you’ve fallen in love with my perfect toes, how
you’ve learned the perfect place for a human man is at an orc woman’s
feet!”
She heared muffled cries of pleasure from beneath her toe, and
she grinned victoriously as the droplets of seed sprayed feebly against
her sole. When she was satisified he was spent, she lifted her foot off
of him, revealing the dazed and smiling inches tall human. Casually she
wiped her foot of on his shirt, leaving the tiny droplets of his cum
behind as she peered down at him.
“Well, we’ve got about two minutes before the smell of my cunt
starts making your head fuzzy again,” Dura said with a smirk, “and now
that you’ve got an idea of what I’m going to do to you when we get back
home… Do you still want to come with me?”
“Yes,” he panted up at her, smiling, “YES!” he shouted again, louder, euphoric.
“I was pretty sure that would be the answer,” she said with a
kind grin, “but it’s nice to hear it… now let’s have a little more fun,
I’m sure there are plenty of places a tiny humie like you could fit,
hmm?”
As the titanic green woman bent down to pick him up, Martin couldn’t have felt happier.
…
The pair looked out over the vast eastern grasslands, the
payment from their final job in the Imperial lands clinking pleasantly
in Dura’s satchel as they walked.
“Well, say goodbye,” She said with a sad smile, “I know it’s asking a lot, for you to leave your homeland.”
“If I miss it we can always come back someday,” he said with a
shrug. He grinned at her, hefting his pack and his axe, “besides, I
think I’m going to like where I’m going.”
“You’ve got that right, it’s a few weeks out, but once we get
back to my old village they’re going to throw us a massive welcoming
party! Grilled meats, strong booze, and plenty of us greenskins looking
to welcome the new strawhead!” she ruffled his blond hair for emphasis.
“Well, let’s get going, it’s a long way,” he said with a sigh.
“Yeah, I forget, you humies don’t have as much stamina cross country, huh?”
He frowned, “I’m much stronger than I was, what are you-“ he
didn’t have time to finish the sentence as the shrinking spell hit him,
reducing him to inches among the towering forest of grass. Before him
the faraway green pillar of Dura’s leg was already lifting out of her
sandal, and with a grin the mountainous orc was bringing her fingers
down to scoop him up again.
“I wouldn’t want you to get tired out,” She teased, grabbing a
familiar pair of leather cords from her belt, “So you’re going to cross
the prairie in a nice safe spot that will conserve your energy!”
Once again Martin felt himself being bound up, tied at his
wrists and ankles as his orcish mistress carefully looped the ends of
the leather into the rest of her sandals, securing him in place against
the sole. The warmth of her foot coated his body as the surprisingly
soft appendage slid into the sandal over him. Her feet were pungent as
always, settling in comfortably over him as she took the first step of
their journey.
How many steps was it before I came last time?
He tried to remember, struggling to keep count with each footfall that squeezed his body.
“Next stop, home!” Dura said eagerly, picking up her pace as she trekked off into the prairie.