Laura was silent for a few seconds as stared down at her foot licking slave, his body badly bruised and covered in a sheen of sweat thanks to her. "Y-you love me?" she was honestly bewildered, and all George could do was nod. "As in, love love me?" to which George nodded again. Laura took time to process what he had just said, his admittance of love probably the least likely thing she could see coming from his mouth. A small smile teased at the corners of her lips, filling George with a faint glimmer of hope, hope that she loved him as well, hope that they would spend their life together. This hope was snuffed out as the teasing grin grew and grew, until she released it in a raucous howl of laughter. George stepped back as the colour drained from his face, the thunderous laughter filling the room. How was he so stupid? He was dragged back into reality, one where Laura saw him as a distraction, a toy. A world where he was tiny and at her whim. "You love me?" she spluttered out between her laughter, to which she was practically rolling on the sofa "You lick my fucking toes and you love me?" George sank further back, this was horrible, he was going to cry. The humiliation made worse by the complete sincerity of his owner, she really see him as nothing more than a toy. Why did he have to ask? He asked himself; he was delusional if he thought any other response was normal. "Oh my god I don't even know your name!" she shrieked. Each syllable that dripped from her venomous tongue ground him further into the dirt, he had never been so heartbroken in his entire life. "The moment you squirmed in my hands when I held you at the beach I knew you would be easy to break, but I've broken you so much you fell in love with me. Me." this words hit George even harder, the truth ringing painfully in his ears. She was right: he was pathetic, he was manipulated by her, psychologically destroyed by her. His mind stretched by the isolation that he latched onto the only person he could, falling in love with her. "Listen, buddy, I'm not exactly head over heels for someone that licks feet as a career." she teased again, gloating over her successful training. "This is so going on Facebook." she grinned as she snapped a photo of the dejected thing. Soon she would post it, showing off to her friends how talented of a trainer she was, putting a slave through psychological torment to the point his mind was so warped that he fell in love with her. George just lay down, he was done, officially he was over, he wanted to just die. Or at least fall down the crack of a sofa and never return. "Awwww, are you sad? Get rejected by the big meanie? Well, wait here." Laura left down the hallway, her sweaty feet peeling off the varnished wood floor. She returned only a few seconds later with something in her hand. George recognised what it was, a piece of pink plastic, about 9 inches long, and shaped with a subtle curve that made it instantly recognisable as a female sex toy. "You want love? I'll show you real love." she grinned.
George wanted to scream, or yell, but the sounds wouldn't come out. He was strapped tight to the tip of the neon pink plastic by sturdy threads, the wrapping around him constricting his body, pushing on his lungs so he couldn't shout in rebellion. He looked up, her perfect face, with her shiny earrings, pink lips and warm eyes was so far away. He could see her taut breasts, her flat stomach, her entire body. She was beautiful, she was the object of his desire, even after the horrible torment and humiliation she had put him through; but still he was terrified. With slow, calculated movements she brought the tip of the dildo close to her private region. She teased at her labia with slow movements, a warm up for the torture she would inflict on George, who was unable to move any part of his body. The warmth of her slightly sweaty body radiated from every square inch of her skin, including the lips of her vulva, which were beginning to moisten with a different body excretion. George grew slightly dizzy of the circular motions as they increasingly became faster. When the giantess deemed she was adequate wet, she used the tip of the plastic rod to push past her labia and travelling deep into her vagina. For George, everything was dark, warm and moist. He was braced tightly against her vaginal wall as he was pushed further in, the fluid coating his body entire body, closing his eyes and mouth to avoid the sticky fluid getting into these sensitive areas. It was so tight in the cavern, the wall he was pushed against him incredibly hard with each subtle movement of the rod. As the pink obelisk was pushed back and forth he was rubbed hard against the wall, luckily lubricated as to not burn him from friction, but still to bruise him from the rough motion. Each time she would change the thrusting direction he was jolted with an inertial tug, sickening him and disorienting him in the warm, moist darkness that smelled so... feminine. His held breath was beginning to diminish, the reserves of oxygen desperately sucked down into his lungs. His heart began to beat, he could feel himself becoming light-headed, dizzy. Just as he felt the cold grasp of oxygen deprivation shudder from his mind he was pulled out, just enough to be exterior to her moist cavern. He took a gasp of air into his lungs as the light burned through his closed eye lids. Laura, fighting through her ecstasy, looked down to judge if he had enough air to survive; she wanted him to be conscious for the entire show. When she deemed he was oxygenated she plunged him back deep inside of her, counting the seconds until he would be taken out for a quick gasp of air again.
George had not pictured this when he professed his love to Laura, he never though she could be so cruel. He felt violated, disgusted as she plunged him deeper and deeper into her sensitive area, the cocktail of smells assaulting his senses. He couldn't help but be partially aroused at this, this was probably the closest thing to sex that he could experience, and perhaps if she wasn't so rough he might enjoy it. But as he was ground against the fleshy lubricated walls, he found it difficult to derive any gratification from this lewd action. Laura's heart began to work faster, the distant muffled thud filling the tight arena, her breathing becoming more haggard as she worked the pink rod. She began to moan, the sounds of ecstasy echoing into the cavern impossibly deep to George's ears. Her movements became faster, pushing George more ferociously into her walls, moaning harder. She didn't dared to take him out for the quick breaths he required, the pleasure dominated her mind. George begged to be freed, the intense pressing agrivating his bruises, the smell of... her screaming in his nose, the humiliation, the lack of air, the disorientation, all the nightmarish sensations building to a horrible... climax. Laura moaned a deep, rapturous moan, the sensation coursing through her veins. She slid her toy completely out of her. The plastic one, and the living one, both thoroughly coated in her juices. She simply smiled down as she recovered her breath, her body slick with even more sweat, her spiky hair, damp, fell around her head. She brought the soaked thing up to her mouth, running her tongue along its length, being sure to clean all the sex off it, and coat George in a sheen of saliva. She untied the impossibly tough fibres, freeing George from his bonds, to which he fell into her waiting, sweaty palm. He was limp, the experience too much for him, he had passed out, overwhelmed entirely by her. She dropped his unconscious, bruised, wet body into his cardboard box as she left to get changed.
Coming down from her orgasm, the brunette reflected on what she had done, how completely and utterly broken in he would be when he awoke. He would assuredly be a fine slave to Sarah, following all orders without question, all the tinies she broke in were obedient. But did she actually make George fall in love with her? She had never seen that before. Usually they would have a burning resentment for their masters, even while serving them, but now he had developed a crush on her. It was cute, she admitted, and he was brave to admit it. But she also considered how much fun she could have teasing him about it. She checked her phone, scrolling through her Facebook timeline: a digital record of their days together. She scrolled through her latest photos: The first day she owned him, seeming so long ago. How sad he looked, so humiliated and depressed. Their day at the gym, how much fun it was to stick him in her cleavage, or down her pants, covering him in infinite sweat as she exercised. Wearing him as an earring, how helpless and pathetic he looked, how easily he resigned himself to his fate as a piece of jewellery. Dangling from her toes as she meditated, looking so small compared to her monumental foot, how resilient he was to scale her entire body. And finally today, when he confessed his love to her. She smiled at these memories, George was the favourite toy to break in to date, the way that he did what he did despite how much he hated it, no pointless screaming or resisting, just breaking him in mentally. If only she could keep him, she thought. How unfair that Sarah would have him instead of her. What a waste, Sarah wouldn't know how to treat him. A slave with such a warped mind to be used to rub moisturiser into her skin. If Laura owned him, she could get real use out of him, the new ideas she could come up with in playing with him, teasing him, the endless joy she could derive from having her own personal lover. Perhaps they could enjoy more... intimate games. She strolled out of her room in comfortable clothes, allowing her bare feet to collect detritus from the floor, perhaps using it later in some punishment for George. She peaked into his box, sleeping so peacefully, so adorably. She looked at the bruises that littered his body, his fragility apparent to her now. She would take it easier on George, she needed him to be in perfect condition for Sarah.
When George was finally freed from the clutches of unconsciousness he realised he was in his box, the oppressive brown walls uncomfortably familiar to him. The sound of a giant TV told him that she was currently watching some mindless TV show as she relaxed, no doubt a stupid grin warn on her face after such an experience. He sat up against a wall as he nursed his sick stomach. He felt violated... sick... mostly but still he knew that he loved her. He began to blubber, making sure to suppress his tears so that she wouldn't hear him. Why did he love someone so cruel? So evil? Somewhat that saw him as a toy? Soon he would be returned to Sarah, his rightful owner and he didn't know if he was looking forward to or dreading it. With Sarah he would be safe, his life would be so much easier, forced to massage her feet and rub lotion into her as his only purpose in life. But after he was done he would be thrown back into his box to waste away the days until he was needed for an equally boring task. If he stayed with Laura... he would be teased, beaten, bruised, punished... but he would be with her, and perhaps have more than to give massages all day. George lay back down on the ground, his body bruised, his mind broken, his will crushed. She really was a better trainer...