Charlie reached over to the desk and switched off the recording device. ‘Thanks for indulging me,’ she smiled sweetly, ‘As you can see I make extensive notes but sometimes you just can’t beat revisiting the moment, you know?’

The man across the room from her nodded his agreement. ‘Oh yeah, absolutely. I do the same sometimes,’ he lied. Sweat prickled across his balding head and dampened his pale blue shirt. A drift of papers, their edges dog eared, separated him from the young woman opposite.

It was unseasonably cold for the time of year though she seemed not to notice. Her shirt was open at the top, revealing a hint of cleavage that was difficult to ignore while remaining perfectly appropriate for the time of year. Her legs were still crossed, the black pencil skirt riding almost high enough to exhibit the tops of her slate grey stockings. Almost.

A black high heel dangled absently from one foot. His eyes stole a glimpse, the tip of his tongue wetting his lips.

‘Does that work for you?’ her question caught him off guard, he hadn’t been listening.

‘Next week, Thursday afternoon?’ she asked, feigning naivety.

He mumbled his agreement and stood, extending his hand to shake on the appointment. ‘Yes, absolutely.’

‘Perfect,’ grinned, her blue eyes twinkling with enthusiasm, ‘see you then.’

--

The wind whipped at her as she crossed the carpark before dropping into the driver’s seat of her silver, company Mercedes. She tossed her bag onto the passenger seat and kicked off her heels. ‘So, did you get any of that?’

She brushed her hair from her eyes and tucked a curly lock of spun gold behind her ear. The chill had caused her cheeks to blush pink, a vibrant contrast to her pale heart shaped face and petite nose. Her lips were a deep maroon, blood on fresh snow.

She hadn’t missed the looks the contact had given her, nor those of the loaders in the warehouse. Charlie smirked; sales may be man’s game but there was a definite advantage to being young, engaging and hot.

Certainly the shrunken man she held in her hand had once agreed. She’d had him in the toe of her shoe for most of the day, same as she had every weekday for the last month. Sometimes he could pick things up but most of the time he spent trying not to slip under her toes. She’d give him a little squeeze when she felt him. Still, it never hurt to ask.

He was grey in both hair and skin, ragged and exhausted, covered in bruises. A million miles away from when she first acquired him. Her fingers curled threateningly around him, her red fingernails as sharp as blades. ‘Hello? I asked you a question.’ She shook him in her first, his inch high body bouncing offer her closed fingers.

Charlie drew him closer to her face, her eyes narrowing as he steadied himself on her opening palm. ‘No boss,’ he answered hoarsely, ‘sorry boss.’

‘Hmm,’ she pouted, ‘I’m not sure if I like boss. Boss sounds like I employ you, like you’re a person. You’re definitely my pet now aren’t you? Or maybe my slave? That sounds a bit much actually. Still, I don’t know if I’m feeling boss. Maybe Mistress would be better? Or Goddess? I like the sound of that.’

She didn’t wait for his answer, he would do as she commanded, and sealed him in her fist again before dropping him into the waiting mouth of one of her converse shoes. The drive home would be almost an hour and the heels were purely for show.

A muffled squeak sent a smile across her sensual lips as her foot entered her shoe, leaving him to scramble in darkness before her toes caught him and forced him into her insole.

Charlie turned the radio on and headed for home.

==

They had met just over five weeks ago during a break at the annual conference. The presentations had been endless; hour after hour of figures, incentives and statistics. The sales force had relished the five minutes of free time; crowding the coffee tables and toilets. Charlie had needed a true break, slipping out of a side door to have a smoke in peace.

She had barely taken a full draw of her cigarette before the door to her secret spot had opened and a man in an expensive grey suit had strode through. His hair was black, swept back and greying at the temples. The brown of his skin betrayed the amount of time spent on his yacht. His eyes were a piercing blue, focussed on his company smart phone.

Charlie panicked, throwing the cigarette into the bushes and wafting away the smoke with her hands.

‘Mr. Sheppard,’ she started, ‘hi, erm, I’m Charlie, err Charlotte. Sorry, Charlotte Bradburton – from the mid-west team.’ She held out her hand politely.

Tim Sheppard, VP of Sales for the District, and her boss’s boss’ boss, looked straight through her. ‘Light.’

Charlie blinked and hesitated a second too long.

The tall man’s brows furrowed. He clicked his fingers, ‘light’. A cigarette had appeared as if from nowhere and now waited in his other hand.

‘Oh,’ realisation dawned upon her, ‘I’m so sorry sir, ah Mr. Sheppard, of course!’ Her attention flew to her bag, searching furiously for her lighter. Each microsecond weighed on her like lead, her cheeks growing warm with embarrassment. Her first time alone with the VP, the dragon of sales, the man who would make or break her career, and she was fumbling like an idiot.

Her fingers clasped around the lighter and she tore it free from the depths of her clutch, thrusting it out triumphantly into empty air. She was alone.

‘Err, hello?’ she looked around, a look of confusion spreading across her cherubic face, ‘Mr. Sheppard?’

She stepped forwards, the toe of her shoe colliding with something soft. She recoiled with a start; looking at the ground at her feet, the grey suit that lay crumpled on the concrete, the smartphone glowing with white light, the discarded cigarette and, beside it, Tim Sheppard.

He was tiny, barely an inch and a half tall, unconscious and very naked.

Charlie couldn’t say if it was a stroke of genius or madness that caused her to pick him up. That same impulse convinced her to drop him into her clutch, to kick his clothes behind the bin, to crush his phone beneath her foot.

She raced inside, flushing pink with nerves, and latched on to the nearest knot of colleagues. Her conversation was a mix of distracted small talk and flirting, enough to make sure at least someone remembered her being with them during the break. Her alibi.

It had taken two hours before the conference had been cancelled. Tim was nowhere to be found and was the keynote speaker. Without him the whole two day meeting fell apart. The decision was made to send the sales force home. Taxis took half to the airport for last minute flights, the rest piled into company cars for a long drive. Tomorrow would be another day for the sales executives while an investigation and contingency was put into place.

Already the rumours had started. Missing people were not uncommon these days.

In the week that followed, Charlie hadn’t needed her alibi. Six years had passed since the epidemic had been officially recognised and such was its reach, missing persons were just too numerous to investigate. For someone as powerful, wealthy and well connected as Tim Sheppard, a show was made of a full search. CCTV was checked at the centre, his clothes and phone found but very little else done. That part of the building was a blind spot and if the worst had happened, odds are he was long deceased.

There was a minute of silence a month after the conference. Charlie had stifled her smirk, knowing the man they mourned was being slowly tortured beneath her toes.

==

She had taken the following day off sick, claiming grief had brought on a sudden bought of illness. In truth she had spent the day at her computer, learning as much as she could about the captive she had sequestered in a shoebox beneath her bed.

Legally he was no longer considered human. The massive scale of the epidemic and the impact it had on its victims meant that representation and rights could no longer be applied. The reasoning was sound; if the afflicted was killed or injured while ‘compromised’ due to the nature of their affliction was it reasonable to portion blame on the perpetrator? In layman’s, if you ended up half an inch tall and got stepped on, how could you blame someone for not checking every footstep?

That she knowingly took him however, technically unlawful detainment, was dicey. There were legal teams who, if they could identify an unwilling or unlawful captive and said captive had the money to pay, would defend and/or take legal action on behalf of the captive. Still the odds of that were slim to none.

Essentially she had gotten away with kidnapping the most effective salesperson of a generation.  It had taken only the slightest leap of her imagination for Charlie to realise how this could change her life forever.

From her perspective Sheppard’s affliction was a stroke of luck. The resources online indicated the victims of the epidemic would find themselves reduced in a seemingly random manner. Her endless clicking had revealed reports of the ‘Shrinkys’ ranging in size from a lofty six inches to utterly microscopic. Neither size would have worked for what Charlie had in mind for her captive.

Sheppard had been roughly woken almost 24 hours after his disappearance at the conference. An explosion of light and sound had assaulted him as he tumbled through the air, the upturned box rolling over him as it was kicked across a cream shag pile carpet.

He landed hard amongst the curling fibres, coughing phlegm as he rolled onto his stomach. He rose to his knees trembling, his head pounding. What was happening?

The ground beneath him rumbled as a voice like honey dripped from the heavens, ‘Wakey wakey little one.’

A knot of fear, revulsion and rage pushed into his throat, threatening to choke him as he looked upon her. To either side of him, a bare foot the size of a bus compressed curling cream carpet fibres as tall as he was. She stood in a position of power above him, a pair of grey sweat pants reaching impossibly upwards to where a pale, bare midriff separated them from a snug black teeshirt. Charlie was wrapped in a pink hooded sweatshirt, her blond curls falling freely across her shoulders. A wicked smile lit her face.

‘How are you feeling Tim? I hope you’re well rested and ready to get started? I’ve got plenty of work lined up for you’

Three days ago Sheppard was unrivalled in any boardroom, his direction influencing a thousand executives across the country. The way this girl sneered at him, some nobody, just because he had been hit by this fucking illness? How dare she? His mind raced, calculating a thousand factors. He had money and influence, his current situation could be overcome, this girl thinks she has the upper hand. He snatched a glance around the room, noting the quality of the furniture and décor, the view outside. This girl could use the money, he could buy her.

‘Hey,’ he began, charm layering his silken voice, ‘Charlotte was it?’

Her movement was a blur. Without pause her foot slashed sideways, slamming into him with punishing force. He was lifted from his feet, his body screaming with agony as he span through the air. He landed much heavily than before, his body creaking as his bones threatened to shatter. Charlie placed her foot back onto the floor and lifted the second. Her captive lay a mere inch from her skin, her shadow falling over him almost instantly.

He looked up, a true cry of fear escaping his lips as the ball of her naked foot descended with horrifying steadiness to settle upon him. His arm, raised in a futile attempt to ward her off, was compressed against him, his ribs screaming as she placed a mere fraction of her weight upon him.

His throat rattled as he gasped for air, drawing in half gasps laced with the scent of her skin. Blood pounded in his ears as the pressure increased, she was going to kill him!

‘Rule number one,’ Charlie raised a finger in admonishment, more for her own enjoyment since her victim’s vision was obscured by her foot, ‘you don’t talk without permission. Got that?’

She waited a split second, again only for show, before adding a little more weight upon the pinned man. A fresh cry of pain snuck out from beneath her. That was good enough.

Charlie stepped off of him, leaving him gasping like a landed fish.

‘Wow, you really should see how pathetic you look.’

Sheppard arched with pain, his bones buzzing as though electricity moved through his chest. This fucking bitch.

A quake shook the ground above him as she moved, her massive form folding with fluid ease. Her knee connected with the floor before him, her huge finger jabbing down towards him like a spear. ‘I said, got it?’ she repeated, her voice icy cold.

He looked up at her, at the accusing digit that was almost twice his height. He trembled with pain and rage, suppressing the fear that had begun to well in his stomach. There was no way this girl was going to beat him. ‘Yes,’ he snarled through gritted teeth.

He flinched as her hand blurred, becoming a fist that slammed down beside him. Again the force removed him from his feet, again he was humiliated. Charlie looked down at him with cold superiority, ‘Yes boss, I think.’

On his knees, his fists clenched, his eyes boring into the floor, he hissed, ‘yes boss.’

==

The next three days had been the worst of his life.

Charlie’s newfound power over him had warped her mind almost immediately. From the beginning her demands had been clear. For the foreseeable future, Sheppard was her pet. Her word was law and disobedience would be punished. To him, her body was a weapon. Huge, fast, impossibly strong; should she be displeased he would feel pain. Her hands, her feet, these she could turn against him to compress and contort his body. She treated him like a plaything, hers to do with as she pleased.

She had been sat on the couch, ankles crossed, when she at last revealed her true intentions. It was Friday morning, she should be at work. This fact was not lost on Sheppard, his budget was paying for her to slack off and ridicule him.

This morning he was a position that had become uncomfortably familiar. On his knees, her barefoot loomed over him. Her lipstick had left a bloody smear across his face. A leftover from the night before, her torments had involved drawing him in and out of her mouth, drowning him in her cloying saliva, crushing him with her lips, threatening to snip off his limbs with her razor sharp teeth.

His own saliva had mixed with the deep red paint and small splashes of it now peppered her skin where he had kissed her warm flesh in deference. It had to stop eventually, he repeated to himself as his hands massaged the deadly sole above him, it had to stop eventually.

No longer naked, she had clothed him in a crude dress made from a thin paper towel. Better suited to his new place as her little bitch, she had said.

Sheppard’s hands were massaging the flesh of his mistress when she addressed him. Her plan, when she revealed it, was asinine.

Delusions of grandeur had convinced her she deserved his job: C. Bradburton, VP of District Sales for one of the world’s largest companies. Her plan was to make him her captive mentor, to have him advise her on her sales and create the perfect pitch which, she believed, would allow her to first mimic his success at sales and then mimic his rise to power. The youngest VP in company history, she demanded nothing less. Then and only then would she consider releasing him. The idea was absurd.

Saying so earned him an agonizing minute compressed between the hard floor and the unyielding foot of a junior sales executive. His part in her plan was non-negotiable.

==

It was amusing that her pet still dared to defy her. She wasn’t even mad, it was his life he was risking each time he denied her. In the first day he had offered her money, no doubt he would do so again now he knew her intention.

Charlie wasn’t stupid though maybe she was a little lazy. She was under no illusion that Tim’s money was useless now, even if he didn’t realise it himself. She had done her research and considered herself a good judge of character, there was no way the second Mrs. Sheppard would part with a cent of her late husband’s money.

That was the best case scenario. The worst, assuming there was a shred of love left for the tiny man that struggled beneath Charlie’s foot, was that she’d report her for kidnap. No doubt there was some lawyer delusional enough to try and get hold of some of the great T. Sheppard’s fortune. No thank you, her way might be slower but to the outside world it would be honest, natural.

His fluttering had grown weak by the time she released him, he rolled away from her foot gasping, always gasping, for air. She repeated her proposal, he agreed.

In her mind this was justified. It was Sheppard who had set the punishing sales plan for the year. A plan that had seen a surge in new revenue for the business but record low levels of sales executives compliant. Those beneath plan, well they didn’t earn as much commission. It was a cold cash grab but what could they do. Sheppard’s word was law.

Charlie chuckled to herself, enjoying the change in her former boss’ circumstances. He was her property now, it was her plan that would decide his fate.

The day was hers to enjoy as she saw fit. She lived far from the office so nobody would notice if she took some personal time. A hamster cage had been set aside for her new pet; complete with a small bed from an old doll’s house, a water dish and a small hunk of bed. Her meeting notes lined the bottom of the tray, his work for the foreseeable.

She tossed him through the hatch without ceremony and locked it behind him. She was going out, an afternoon that would turn into an evening of celebratory drinks with the girls. A fold of paper and a sliver of graphite from a pencil was poked through the bars, tools to allow him to make notes. By Saturday morning she expected cast iron proposals for her entire portfolio. There would be time following her hangover to go through them ahead of Monday. ‘Get to work,’ she commanded, patting the top of his cage, causing it to shake violently. She stepped over his enclosure, the simple action deliberate to remind him how helpless he was.

Alone and trapped, Sheppard began to read.

==

The original plan didn’t last a day.

Charlie staggered through the door, her breath laced with vodka. Her keys dangled from her grasp, her bag hanging lazily from the crook of her arm. Her hair was a mess, her makeup smeared. She tottered forwards unsteadily, her killer heels clicking on the floor. It had been a very good night.

She clicked on the light, illuminating the majority of her three room apartment. Her eyes fell hungrily on the cage, dangerous ideas going through her mind. She could be a nasty and spiteful drunk.

Her brows knitted as through blurry vision she saw the open door, the broken frame of the bed lying where he had left it after prying open the latch.

Her jaw set with rage, he had only just escaped. This she knew not by some forensic expertise but by the tiny running figure that raced towards a nearby air vent.

She dropped her bag, the sound booming through the room. Sheppard felt it hit the earth but didn’t look back. The ground beneath his feet bucked as she stormed towards him, each one of her impossibly high legs closing the gap between them with dizzying speed. He was a second away, so close.

The world before him vanished abruptly. Where once the slim chance of escape presented itself, a towering wall of black leather blocked his path. He had barely time to look up at her, to explain, to force an apology before a wicked kick sent him flying across the room. She didn’t pull the force of her blow, his bones shattering from the impact.

He croaked weakly, his lungs filling with blood, a feeble hand raised to the sky. She was above him, towering on stiletto heels, her luscious body wrapped in a tight black dress. Her face was twisted with anger, devoid of mercy or reason.

‘Fuck the plan,’ she snarled, driving her foot into him.

The feeling of a human body liquidising beneath the ball of her foot would have been indescribable, even if she hadn’t had countless cocktails. His cry lasted only a split second before giving way to the dry sounds of splintering bones, the wet sounds of tearing flesh. She twisted her foot back and forth, extinguishing him as she would a cigarette. A fitting action, she decided, considering their first meeting.

When she stepped away there was barely any trace of him, a featureless smear of blood and viscera on the linoleum. Her lips curled into a sneer, her blue eyes narrow with disgust. Fucking insect.

She spat upon his remains, slamming her foot into them for good measure. With a simple shake she dislodged her shoe and left it upon him, her former boss pushed into the sole like a wad of discarded gum.

Charlie’s head span, her fingers pushing through her hair. She needed to sleep. With one shoe on and one shoe off, she wobbled to her bedroom and collapsed on to the bed.

Tomorrow would be a fresh day.

The morning arrived with difficulty. Charlie’s head pounded as she lifted herself from the bed and trudged to the bathroom. She had slept in her clothes, classy move. She shot herself a look in the mirror and tried to tousle some order into her hair. A pair of sweatpants and a t shirt were found and changed into. Her head swam as she shuffled into the living room. She picked up her bag from the floor, her discarded shoe beside it. Her shoe.

‘Shit,’ she muttered drowsily. Rubbing sleep from her eye with one hand, she lifted the shoe with the other.

Sheppard gasped, air slicing into his inflating lungs like knives. Light crashed upon him as the great weight was lifted from him.

‘What the fuck?’ the voice of his captor boomed above him.

Charlie watched, her tired eyes wide with shock, as the tiny man’s broken limbs twitched back into shape. He moved like a marionette, the sad lump of squashed flesh and bone shards clicking together until he was lying whole before her.

His mind raced, he was dead, he remembered it. Her face, a picture of cruelty emboldened by alcohol. Her foot rising, the shoe swallowing the light, the pain, the darkness.

His bones ached, trembling he sat upright. His chest fluttered, each ragged breath shaking him. Held out before him, he inspected his hands, watching his fingers curl back into shape. So fascinated was he by his restoration, Sheppard failed to notice the shadow that befell him.

Charlies hand slammed into him, pushing him roughly into the floor before her tree trunk sized fingers closed around him. She drew him upwards at an impossible speed, standing as she did so. He scrabbled across her palm as she brought him to her face.

‘What the fuck?’ she repeated, her vodka laced breath washing over him, ‘How the fuck are you alive?’

Not waiting for a response, she jabbed her index finger into him, crushing the air from his chest.

Charlie watched as the tiny man folded in two, bones breaking as she twisted her finger further into him. His arms flailed weakly, batting at her skin ineffectually. ‘This is mental’, she chuckled. Releasing the pressure, his body repaired itself instantly. His skin was still twitching as she closed her hand about him, pulverising him in her fist.

She crossed the small room quickly, pulling back an office chair to sit at her dressing table. Charlie flipped open the lid of a small wooden jewellery box and, without pause, tossed her captive inside.

Sheppard landed hard amongst a clatter of bangles and beads. He stumbled, the oversized accessories shifting beneath him. Looking upwards he had barely time to protest before she slammed the lid, sealing him in darkness.

Hour passed like days, leaving him time to contemplate. What had happened to him?

Beyond the wooden walls of his prison he could hear her colossal movements. The ground shook each time her massive body pushed against the table, reminding him just how small he was compared to her.

He tried to rest, he tried to make sense of what his life had become. He heard her laptop boot up, the clatter of her fingers on the keys. The muffled sounds of videos began, one after another, hour after hour. He became obsessed with trying to decipher the sounds and words that drifted into his cell. He heard moaning, a distorted scream, was she watching porn?

The look on her face when she opened the lid answered his question. That smirk, that hunger in her eyes. He was in trouble.

Charlie reached in and plucked him out of the box. She loved how light he was, how easily she could manipulate him in her grip. Her smile grew as she watched him dangle from her fingers, his face red with pain as she applied pressure to his trapped leg. When she finally released him he landed hard, face first into the wooden table top. With what she learned she was no longer concerned for his safety, he could handle it.

Sheppard rose to his feet snarling, trying to hold back the rage that gnawed at his guts. The pain from the fall was already receding, any damage to his leg healing quickly. He gave the smiling girl a black look but said nothing, she didn’t need another reason to torment him.

‘Had fun in timeout little guy?’ she asked in a mocking tone, ‘I thought it would be good for us to learn a little bit more about what’s going on here, y’know? It’s not every day you see someone come back from the dead, you really freaked me out. Still, turns out you’re little gift is going to make my plan a whole lot easier.’

Her little man stood in silence, glaring at her. She considered flicking the scowl off of his face or smashing him beneath her fist, something to put him in his place. Her hand moved for a second but she stayed her blow. Let him have his moment, she thought, it would be the last one for a very long time.

‘Look at you,’ she purred, ‘do you even understand what I’m saying? I hope your new size hasn’t caused your brain to go soft.’

His scowl grew as her laughter danced around him.

‘You want to hope not, for your sake. Anyway, shut up. I’ve been doing research all morning and have found out some really crazy shit. Do you know what a Resilient is?’

Sheppard stayed silent. He didn’t give a shit about Shrinkies, he didn’t know any.

‘No? Ok, turnaround, watch this.’

Charlie moved her laptop to allow him a better view of the videos she had been watching. The size different was hilarious, her laptop was like a cinema screen to him.

She gave him a second to drink in the title of the clip, to process the still image he was seeing.

The letters on screen were each the size of his head: ‘Cruel Brat Smashes Resi in Heels’

‘I thought I’d start you on this,’ the titaness chuckled,’ kinda like us huh?’

She clicked play and unleashed a torrent of horror.

 ‘What the fuck is this?’ Sheppard stammered as the images flashed before him.

On screen, a man no larger than himself ran across a black tile floor. Above him, a twenty something year old loomed like a skyscraper. She was a porn actress clearly, dressed up in a short blue tartan skirt, white shirt and brown jacket as though fresh from some exclusive private college. She’d tied her hair into pigtails and her long legs were wrapped in white socks that disappeared into a pair of black stilettos. These strode casually behind the man, each thudding footstep causing him to stumble.

‘Just keep watching.’

The camera angles followed that man at his level, capturing the desperation in his face, the horror as the sole of her shoe swung over him. The impact rumbled through the speakers along with the sounds of cracking bones. After grinding him into the tile for a few seconds she stepped off of him, allowing him to reform before slamming her foot down again.

The five minute video went on for an eternity, each time the man choked out a brief scream before being flattened into the floor.

Charlie leaned over and clicked on the next video, completely unphased by the brutality she had seen.

‘I’ve been watching these all day,’ she mentioned casually, as though able to read his thoughts, ‘there’s some really good ones on here, they’ve given me a lot to think about.’

Sheppard tried to stammer out a reply but was hushed and prompted again to watch.

The next video was as sick as the first. This time a group of women in gym clothes obliterated a crowd of running Shrinkies. Their ‘game’ was to try and find the Resi, the Resilient, the thing Sheppard had now become, amongst the fleeing masses.

Tiny humans fled in every direction, haunted by the sound of their captor’s laughter as they chased them across a small studio set. By the time they had found their prize, over fifty people had been compressed into a bloody sludge beneath their sneakers.

Behind him, Charlie lit a cigarette and drew on it thoughtfully. Her bright eyes drank in the images flickering on screen, enjoying each video. Leaning forwards, she blew a plume of smoke down onto the small man.

Sheppard coughed, turning to glare at her with smoke reddened eyes, ‘What is your fucking problem?’

Charlie shrugged and smiled prettily, ‘I was getting bored, I’ve seen most of these already. Want to keep watching or shall we have a conversation?’

He scowled, ‘Might as well get to it. I’m guessing you still intend to go forwards with your asinine plan? I can’t imagine someone like you has the sense to change her mind?’

‘I should hurt you for that you know,’ Charlie leaned forwards, her eyes narrowing menacingly, ‘maybe take an arm or a leg, and let you suffer for a bit.’ She drew on her cigarette again and sent another stream tumbling down onto him raising a fresh bought of splutters.

‘Still its early days, there is still plenty of time for you to learn how to speak to me. Plus, I’m about to lay some interesting news on you and I don’t want you being all distracted by having to grow a limb back.

So, come here.’ She tapped on the edge of the desk. Sheppard trudged over, his fists clenched at his side. ‘Sit.’

He did as he was bid. ‘Good boy,’ she smiled, patting his head with her fingertip.

‘So guessing by now you’ve figured it out? Tim Sheppard, the newest member of club Resilient. Lucky you huh? You won’t need to eat, to sleep, to drink. You’ve scored the jackpot. No matter how tough things get for you, you’ll quite literally bounce back. How crazy is that? Still, the real question is, do you know how this changes things for us?’

Sheppard remained silent and sullen.

‘Fine,’ Charlie pouted, ‘I’ll explain, it’s quite simple really; one word, efficiency’

He looked at her with tired eyes, ‘Efficiency?’

‘I thought you’d like the sound of it,’ she beamed down at her little pet, ‘let me put it this way; do you know difference between serving a master and serving a god?’

‘You think you’re god now, you crazy bitch?’ Sheppard snarled.

‘Compared to you I am, yeah.’ Charlie stubbed out her cigarette and reclined in her chair, swinging her feet onto the desk. They thudded heavily beside him, her toes towering above him as a reminder of just how small he was.

‘Yesterday our relationship was Master and Slave and don’t get me wrong, I was pretty excited by it. Still, it has its limitations you know? To answer the question, a master slave dynamic relies on the slave following the master’s commands on pain of punishment. You do as I say, in our case planning my sales pitches, or I hurt you. Simple stuff but it comes with risk. What if it got too much for you? What if you burned out or got broken by a punishment? All of that severely limits how much I can motivate you which is a real bummer if I’m being honest.

Now it turns out you’re a Resilient though, well that changes everything. When you serve a god, you do so because you hope to one day be rewarded. You hope that one day you’ll be lifted from a life of toil and pain to something better. Are you following me?’

Sheppard sighed, ‘Does it matter either way?’

Charlie giggled, ‘It does for you shrimp, this changes everything. Yesterday your life was going to be pretty sweet. All you had to do was support some hot young thing’s career for a few years then you’d be free to do whatever you wanted. Now though, well let me show you.’

Her hand shot out before he had time to react, her fingers closing roughly about his body.

He barely had time to scream as her huge, luscious lips opened to reveal two rows of glistening white teeth. He was thrown heavily onto her tongue, barely having time to find his footing on the saliva covered muscle before she closed her mouth and sealed him in darkness.

Charlie stretched in her chair, tilting her head back and forth sending him tumbling around her mouth. She allowed him a moment to try and get to grips with his predicament before biting down. Hard.

The sensation was incredible. Her tongue threw him onto her molars which slammed together compressing him into featureless goo. He would feel the rock hard teeth slice into him like knives before coming together to crush him into oblivion. Her jaw parted, allowing him room to reform before tearing into him again. She chuckled, the sound rolling over him like thunder, as she imagined the agony he would be going through.

Charlie picked up her phone and idly flicked through Instagram, her chewing becoming rhythmic. It was important that tormenting Sheppard become second nature to her. A god should not spare even a second thinking about their subjects.

She couldn’t say how long it had been before she spat him out, she wasn’t counting the minutes.

Sheppard flew through the air like a gobbet of gum, a ruin of flesh and saliva fighting to reform itself. By the time he hit the floor he was almost back in shape, his bones creaking together over knitting flesh. He landed hard, his lungs burning as they inflated. The pain was still fresh in his mind, his body weak and shivering. He trembled on all fours like an animal, bucking as a stream of vomit, splashed across his hands. It was clear, her saliva.

He crashed onto his side as once again a shadow raced over him. Her looked upwards, wide eyed as her huge foot raced down to him, a relentless cloud of flesh; toes flared and angled to completely annihilate him.

The thud of her foot danced lightly on her ears as she compressed her slave beneath the sole of her foot. She chuckled to herself, imagining how loud the impact must have sounded to him in the split second before he was destroyed by a single step.

She twisted her foot back and forth, varying the pressure again to keep the torture fresh. She was surprised at how easily this came to her. If she needed any reassurance that what she was doing was right, this was it. If it was wrong, it wouldn’t feel so natural.

Eventually she relented, stepping off of him leaving his fragile form quivering in pain. If Sheppard believed this as a sign of mercy, he was tragically mistaken. His goddess wanted a coffee.

Charlie returned in a flurry of thunder, her bare feet slapping heavily on the floor. The chair rolled away as she angled her foot towards him, her massive toe halting before him. ‘Do I need to explain what you need to be doing here? Unless you need another lesson, I’d start kissing.’

He moved forwards on all fours, scurrying towards the waiting digit. She waited for the first sensations of his lips on her skin before she struck out, smashing his face into pulp and sending him reeling. ‘And thank me you little fuck,’ she snapped.

Sheppard’s face had barely reformed before he was back at his station, worshipping at the feet of a former subordinate that had become his god. An hour passed before his eyes became pink, the once powerful exec choking back his first tears since childhood.

As if reading his mind, Charlie chose that moment to reach down and close him in a careless fist.

She threw him back onto the desk and leaned in close, her smile more dangerous and deadly than ever. ‘Lesson learned?’ she asked, her voice dripping with sugar.

‘Sssshh,’ she purred, covering his lips with a fingertip and stifling his stammered reply, ‘So this is how its going to be. The old plan? That would have been a dream and it’s dead. The new plan? Well, that’s going to be a lot more fun today.

From now on, your every waking moment is going to be pure agony. You’ll be in every pair of shoes I own, you’ll feel every footfall. I’m going to dedicate my time to learning new ways to humiliate you every single day. If I’m horny, you’ll be inside of me, your lungs filling with my juices as your fragile little body fulfils its role as my human dildo. Every day you’ll suffer an everyday you’ll thank me.

And at the end of the day? After a day spent struggling for breath beneath my foot, when your slick with cum and saliva? That’s when you’ll go to work. That’s when you’ll prepare my sales pitches and advise on my meetings. These tasks will be the highlights of your existence, the only time you’ll spend free from me and the pain I inflict on you. You’re going to live for those my notes and numbers, fantasise about them.’

Sheppard shook with revulsion, ‘You can’t, you can’t do this’

Charlie smirked. Like a snake, she struck forwards, her tongue darting out to slam into him and lift him from his feet. He landed on his ass, a thick coat of saliva dripping across his battered body. She laughed as he choked on it.

‘Obviously I can, you sad little fuck. It’s already done. This is your life now; well at least for the next, shall we say two years?’

The tiny man burbled, his mind spinning, ‘What?’

‘A two year review? C’mon idiot, even you should know how important performance reviews are to proper motivation. Let’s make a deal. I’ll give you two years to get me your old job. If you manage it, I’ll arrange something nice for you. My friend Nikki runs a café where they take in little things like you, find them homes and whatever. You’d like that wouldn’t you? Answer me.’

He nodded dumbly.

‘And if not, well you’ll just have to keep working. I warn you though, I don’t want to be doing this job forever. If need be, I can always sell you. Do you know how much these studios pay for you things? Hint, it’s a lot. What do you think, is it possible, can you do it? Or would you rather spend the rest of your sad life jammed up some cam-girl’s asshole?’

‘N-no,’ he stammered, not daring to look at her, ‘I’ll do it. I’ll get you what you want.’

Charlie snarled, slamming her fist down next to him.

‘No Goddess!’ he screeched, recoiling from the impact, ‘I’m sorry goddess, I’ll get you what you want.’

His Goddess smirked, ‘That’s more like it.’