Lenny pursued Mara’s footsteps back to the house. The imprints on the soil weren’t too pronounced from her casual stride, though where she had been sprinting, spearing her foot into the soil, they were clearly etched into the earth. The five human outlines within one sole were a mindboggling thing. Lenny had quite the bulge between his legs, just the familiar sight of Mara’s lovely feet had breathed life into his memories, sharpening his mental images made hazy with time, and revived the starkness of the feelings he’d felt back then. Simply seeing her feet again would have been enough.

But no, she brought on another spectacle which put her roughhousing with Lenny and the triplets to shame.

Lenny retreated under the trees as he saw the vast wooden porch appear, the house behind it. Mara sat at the chair and small table where she’d read her book with him and the triplets tied to her feet. She was bent forward, hands at work, as if tying shoelaces. Though Lenny could guess what she was tying.

Lenny left the last tree and crossed the grass over to the rise of the porch. He didn’t jump up the steps, they were in focus and right in view of where she sat. Instead, Lenny saw a large wicker basket near the ledge of the porch, going there and, activating his base magics, skipped his way up through the gaps between the giant planks. He caught the ledge and rolled over, feeling stealthy. Lenny clung to the basket and rounded its girth, until he could see Mara.

Right as she came into view, she rose back up into her chair with hands up in accomplishment. “Tada! There we go, my sandals are complete.”

Indeed, the two newest intruders were now strung up, wrists tied to her anklet and shoes to her toes. They shared the top with two others respectively, with five under her soles. Coats and cloaks lay in a heap next to one of the table legs, all their overclothes stripped off and leaving them in their simpler shirts and trousers. They were eight per foot, sixteen in total, helplessly embarrassed as Mara leaned into the chair and kicked her legs up on the table, crossing one foot over the other, putting them on exhibit. Mara bit her lip as she watched her decorated feet, twisting them graciously by the ankle to show every angle of their condition, as if a row of judges were before her and tasked to rate this work of art.

What fascinated Lenny was how little she needed to do. Mara leaned back with her propped up feet, surrendering all effort, yet with every passing second, the humiliation she brought upon them was the persistent drop of water breaking down their confidence. She dominated them by quite literally doing nothing, letting every second pass for what it was, relaxing at noon with her footwear on.

“Nothing changes that you’re a hideous thing,” one of the men on her right sole said, his head by the ball of her foot. “Jacked teeth, lazy-eyed, hook-nosed tramp, that’s what you are. And that’s surely why you’re doing this, trying to pamper yourself, enter a fantasy where you’re some queen. Sorry, Miss Shitface, there’s little to change that appearance of yours. The mirror will show you the same horror no matter what you do to us.”

“Ah, there it is,” Mara said, and whether the smugness was genuine or a veil to conceal the pain of those words, Lenny couldn’t tell. “Always mentioning my face, thinking that’s where the point of attack lies.”

“It could be your scrawny stick of a body, and I’m sure there’s humans with more breast than you. There’s no shortage of things to point out, Your Ugliness is generous in that regard.”

His neighbor hissed at him. “Hey, knock it off. You’re making it worse for all of us.”

“Ha! It’s already bad enough. I’m just trying to keep my pride over here.”

“Oh, so that’s it,” Mara said. “The man believes barking insults is meaningful resistance. Tell me, how much less of a sandal have you become after yapping? How much pride did you recover?” The few seconds he tried to find an answer was one she interrupted. Curling her peds, her lithe toes could bend down and touch his scalp, the balls of her feet wrinkling enough to pinch his nose. “Exactly. The one trying to escape reality here is you, barking as loud as you can to try and look like an opponent, a man with an opinion. The reality is that you’re my little footboy. One of my little footboys.” She took in the sight of them some more, tilting her head, measuring them with something bordering on pride. Then, with a clap of her hands, she set her feet down on the porch. “Anyways, get comfortable, or don’t. Sandals are meant to provide comfort, not have any of it themselves. Your customers are these two lovely darlings, so make sure to take care of them, won’t you?” Mara stood to her height, putting her weight on the ten humans beneath her. Her feet pressed out groans and complaints, muffling past those enormous soles. Mara closed her eyes, indulging in the feeling of their warm bodies underneath her, her tongue taking a swirl around her lips. She turned around and made her way inside the house, and like the clap of sandals slapping against the heels, the ones she wore now made the sound of manly grumbles and grunts.

Lenny pulled his pants down to make it in time. He grabbed his manhood and needed no more than a few seconds before ejaculating onto the broad, wooden plank. He staggered, holding the wicker basket for support.

It all came to him in that moment, the lies he’d made to excuse his absence, the few hours he’d walked to get here, all to reach this one moment which he spent in several seconds. Was it time to just go home? The anticlimactic nature of the suggestion was sour, empty; it made Lenny feel like a sober ghost had been excised out of his body, able to see himself with his dick in his hand and how laughable it was.

No, this wasn’t a waste. A waste would be to turn around so soon. A waste would be to have the blessing of seeing Mara put on a show of indescribable dominance, with what might be the prettiest feet Lenny would ever see in his life, and leave. His horny thirst was so massive it even pushed aside the sobering crash following ejaculation, having just spent himself yet waiting eagerly for her to return and proceed toying with the sixteen men.

Lenny wondered what the next step would be if she didn’t plan to come outside. If she’d gone to her bedroom, would he follow her there to see the action? Lenny still had something to lose. No one knew of this shameful visit he’d made. Should he be caught in her house, he’d have little to say, the pretext of coming to steal evernuts evaporating. He looked about himself, and near the steps down the porch he noticed another basket half-full of evernuts, and beside it a pair of giant leather sandals. Their travelworn state was clear, the dark indent of the ball, the heel, and the five toes at the front. Unaware, he took a few steps that way, a bee floating to a flower.

Mara returned from the house. Lenny heard her steps and retreated behind the basket. She had brought a tray full of confections, a cup of tea, and another book. Mara set them on the table, made herself comfortable on the chair, crossed one foot over the other, and commenced reading.

The men on her soles looked broken, tired, beaten by a thorough trampling. Occasionally, Mara would rub her big and second toe together to take care of an itch, flex her toes, and even the simplest of movement caused ripples across her feet which disturbed the sixteen men properly, not allowing them to settle into a steady calm where time passed quickly. They were always reminded of their position. At times Mara’s toes would fiddle with the three men on top of the opposite foot, idly squeezing their heads, mashing the meaty underside of her toes against their faces. Lenny remembered how it felt, and being able to relate made him think of how these sixteen were just more names on her list. Every week brought a steady supply of thieves to be toyed with by Mara’s feet.

Although Lenny wouldn’t start vouching for the qualities of Mara’s character, she did indeed have a point when saying she merely dealt with those who trespassed and attempted to steal from the plantation. From his knowledge, Mara released them on the same day, did not kidnap anyone innocent outside. If her actions were generally described to the average person, they would agree to the defending of property. These were the feet of justice.

After a good while, Mara clapped the book together and put it away, finishing her tea. Knees pointing to the sides, she aimed the soles at each other, making all ten underneath visible to her. “Alright, footboys, I’ll keep it brief. I’ll count to ten, and at the count of ten, you’re going to be kissing my feet. If I count to ten and you haven’t, I’m getting up, and I’m going to start running and jumping around. You understand what that means, don’t you?”

There was a timid silence. One them spoke up, “Yes, we understand.”

“I’m not giving her anything,” the one who’d insulted her from earlier said.

“Oh well,” Mara said with a happy shrug. “We’ll see how it goes. Don’t forget that other than getting crushed, running means I’m getting tired and warm. And you know what tired and warm means? That means sweaty feet. So, without further ado, begin!”

Over half of the ten already started planting kisses, showing how much they valued the calm of being tied to her feet and avoiding further chaos.

“One,” Mara counted.

“Get it together,” one of the men on her soles said between his kisses. “Let go of your pride. What’s there left of it here anyways? Let’s just get through this nonsense peacefully.”

“Two.”

Another couple of them joined, their kisses paltry and reluctant, but kisses nonetheless.

“Three.”

The one who’d insulted her previously was the only one of the ten on her soles not having submitted.

“Four.”

“You goddamn rat,” the one beside him said. “Get to it now before we all get smushed!”

“Are you serious? You’re giving her all this?”

“Five.”

“This is bigger than you and her,” another added. “Think about the rest of us, goddammit.”

“Six.”

“Come on!” The one beside him tried to slam his head into his. “You should be worried about what the nine of us will do to you once we get out of here.”

The last man puckered his lips together, leaned in towards the ball of her foot. He couldn’t make contact, jerking back as if having touched a scorching stove.

“Seven.”

“Forget everything and do it. Drop all emotions, this means nothing, it’s wall of flesh, nothing else.”

“Man’s turning into a bloody priest,” another added after nibbling at the wrinkles in her arch.

“Eight.”

The stubborn, belligerent man yielded at last, his lips meeting the soft foot.

Mara giggled girlishly. “And there we go.” Now she had all of them.