Claeri was on her knees, holding her head low. Alden mimicked her attitude and waited, waiting for the appearance of this hulking unit which caused these tremors no other giant could with mere walking.
The trees were shoved aside, and Big Bertha entered.
“Lord above…” Alden muttered. Most adult giants ranged between sixty-five to seventy-five feet, perhaps eighty at most. The stories claimed Big Bertha was just under a hundred, the largest giant Alden had and might ever see in his life. The sheer size of her as a giant wasn’t the only thing, but proportionally, she was massive. Had she been human, she’d likely be over six foot and four inches. Her globular breasts could smother a whole party of humans between them, the scant bra struggling to contain them. Big Bertha was in her thirties, a prominent jawline and bridged nose giving her a pronounced expression. Her hair was brought together into one thick braid, tracing her spine all the way to her tailbone. The expanse of tan, caramel skin was freely shown, as she only wore those bras and a pair of shorts. There was an old wound slashed on the middle of her left thigh, a healed scar beside her belly button. Two anklets encircled the lower end of her calves, not pinned with gems or beads, but larger stones. Granite, onyx, quartz, the stones were neither chiseled nor polished, their raw and jagged surfaces reflecting what every inch of Bertha’s being announced. Power and strength, the kind that shattered mountains.
It was her enormous height which helped distribute her mass. Big Bertha’s waist had a slight but noticeable curve that, despite her hulk, gave her a shapeliness. Her thighs were large pillars of flesh. They almost touched each other, and might have if she were any shorter.
And finally, with Alden’s full-body scan coming to the bottom, were her feet. Considering the rest of her and what he already knew, he shouldn’t have been surprised at their enormity, but he couldn’t close his mouth from the sheer awe of these monsters. The arch curved up nicely, Alden could crawl thereunder into a cozy little pocket even while she was standing. Each foot was equipped with five long, fleshed-out and shapely toes which could comfortably catch humans in their embrace. The toes were bulbous, round, and again, if it weren’t for her tall proportions, that amassment of muscle and size would have put her on the chubbier side. But there was plenty of room to put all that mass, filling her out nicely.
Claeri crawled up to her side, nuzzling against her thigh. The action wasn’t done with great fervor; she knew what Bertha wanted and was doing it. It earned her a couple of head-scratches.
“That’s a good girl,” Bertha said, a deep and dark voice. “I’ve been out a while, and it’s been hard work. They’re drawing a hot bath for me now, and I’ll need that mouth of yours there.” With a couple of pats on Claeri’s cheek, she signaled the end of her exchange with her, brown eyes turning to Alden. “So, you’re the Artless, famous for his failing.”
“I… I suppose that’s me.” Alden took his gaze off her toes. “What could someone as useless as me have to be taking any of your precious time and attention, oh Great War Queen Bertha?”
Big Bertha raised an eyebrow. “Quite a mannered one. You know very well who you stand before. We’ll see if we can make contact with that famous, resourceful father of yours, see what he wants for you. If it’s nothing, then we’ll see if anyone else wants something for you, your guild perhaps. And if you’re really so unloved…” Big Bertha’s left foot came forward, landing beside Alden’s right side. Her other foot flanked him, the tremors faint but there, and her enormity was straight above him. A mountain of flesh, right over him. Staring up past the enormous pillars for legs, Bertha had to bow her hip back so her head could see past those enormous breasts. “You’ll find a nice home here. Let’s take this conversation to the bath. I’m beaten, and I’ve already got a job for you.”
***
The bath was a smooth cavity in the sandstone ground, with several elevations chiseled onto its sides. A collection of gargantuan elm trees towered around them. Big Bertha lay naked in there, everything below her breasts submerged under the water. Claeri was hugged into her. The juxtaposition made her ridiculously tiny. Not only was Big Bertha over twenty feet taller, her large arm over Claeri made the contrast even starker. Nothing about Claeri was off when Alden saw her, yet here she was like a malnourished little child in comparison.
“Good girl,” Big Bertha said, adjusting strands of Claeri’s hair behind her ears. Claeri had her mouth around the areola of Bertha’s right breast, the teat pulsating towards her mouth as she sucked. Bertha’s legs were thrown across the width of the bath, barely covering its span with her length. On the opposite ledge she’d propped up her ankles. Her feet lay sideways, where Alden was, standing tall and putting his mouth against her big toe. “I’ve no shortage of men,” Bertha said. “A lot of slaves caught from villages and opposite clans that do everything I say. So you better do well. There’s competition.”
Despite Alden having ejaculated three times today, there was a drive. It had been some hours ago he’d been twisted into submission under Leila’s feet. The two other times was to Claeri and the other slaves’ mouths. During that time, the drive for feet slowly returned, and it helped that he was met with the most impressive pair he’d ever seen in his life. He wouldn’t throw a quality like beauty out so soon, Leila’s were made of beauty, but Bertha’s were impressive, the kind of awe one experiences when gaping up at a mountainous monument. Their size, the roundness of the toes, the depth of the arch and the multitude of wrinkles summoned at the whims of her movement, they were magnificent. Alden swiped his tongue along the rotund curvature of her big toe, the landscape of toe prints registering well on the sensory map of his tongue.
“She’s so big,” Alden whispered to himself. He took the nub of her big toe in his mouth and did to it what Claeri was doing to her nipple, trying to draw as much of it into his mouth as he could. When he had a decent portion of fluffy toe flesh behind his lips, he chewed, and dear god was it soft. Alden inadvertently moaned, his manhood rising with a reluctant ache. The ache was his body telling him he was finished, the rise of his cock was his pathetic character somehow finding a way to remain fixed to these desires. His mouth worked the toe as if it were tough meat, never breaking under his teeth, yet that never made him surrender his efforts. There was something spellbinding about its texture and the way it felt to chew on them.
“Ah.” Big Bertha’s head was tilted back, a hand over Claeri’s neck still urging her to go on. Alden couldn’t tell how much he has contributing, but a faint little twitch of her big toe pulled him with it, and Bertha bit her lip. “You’re good, young Artless. Maybe this is your art, the art of the foot worshipper.”
Her satisfaction boosted his efforts. Alden released her big toe with pop and moved down the length of it, leaving a road of kisses wherever his head went. Her feet had been soaked in water, much of the dirt gone, but they hadn’t seen any soap yet. Although distant, the sting of sweat and its hard work was possible to taste if one focused. Alden worked the upper part of the ball of her foot, at the junction between them and the toes where the flesh was particularly doughy. Bertha burst out a dark groan, the toes flexing in to grab his torso and give him a motivating nudge like her hand was on Claeri.
And so it went on. The steam was what kept Alden warm, and although he might have fancied a bath, it was not an option when his arms were tied. He worked his way down the row of toes, kneeling lower and lower until he had to crawl for her pinky toe. Even the smallest toe had its chewy resistance, so bulbous were they. When Alden finished, he stood again and put his body against the arch, resting his chin on the top of its width. He saw Claeri, so tiny in comparison, still giving her earnest efforts at those nipples. Big Bertha’s head was reclined back over the ledge, mouth ajar. Her eyes were just behind her cheekbones, unable to see if they were closed. If they were, he was convinced she was half-asleep.
Alden locked his lips around a mouthful of sole and thrust his manhood into her arch. Even though it hurt his groin to the point where the pain outweighed the pleasure, even though Alden wasn’t even forced to go this far, he kept thrusting until the painful orgasm plied its way through his lower abdomen. Four drops of cum oozed out. Alden staggered back, easing down on his butt and then lying on his back.
“Well, well,” Big Bertha said, her voice calm from the tranquil state she was still in. The foot he’d spent the last several minutes on turned aside, uncovering him. “No wonder your worship is of such a quality. It comes from lust, not duty.”
There wasn’t much shame left in Alden; after Leila, he’d lost most of it. Now he just closed his eyes and let himself drift in the warm vapors.
“However,” Bertha continued, “I’m not sure where you got the idea you can just use my foot to spill your seed like that. In my presence, you do it when I allow you to, that’s your first lesson here.” Alden heard the nearby shuffle of her feet. That round big toe sat on his cock, and it felt as if a hand made of pain clenched over his body. Alden kicked his legs up in reaction, and the second toe slid right underneath. The second and big toe pinched together. With a flexion of her ankle joint, she lifted him up with a toe-grip on his manhood and ass. Alden sighed and groaned, reflexively clamping his legs together to protect his jewel. But his legs only found their way around a doughy toe.
And then, she started curling her toes up and down, the big toe rubbing against his manhood. They lacked the dexterity of fingers, meaning Alden was simply flailed back and forth as a byproduct of the big toe rubbing against his cock.
Alden yelped. “Please, my lady, stop.”
“You’re not home, Artless.” Bertha’s tone was sharper, her expression more present as she adjusted her position to get a comfortable hold on him with her toes. “You’re not just my slave.” She patted Claeri, who had not wavered one bit from her task at those breasts. “You’re my bitch’s slave. You were instructed to worship, and you thought you deserved more, that you were better than that.”
“I… I didn’t know, I thought it was fine.”
“You thought it was fine, because you’ve been a spoilt brat.” His manhood throbbed, red and swollen under the never-ending flex of her big toe. “Much like any guildrat from Gharn. It’s interesting how even an unknown, lowly guild like yours, a failure like you, Artless, still manage to show the same Gharnian arrogance that pervades the east.”
The pain was unbearable. Alden bit his teeth together, huffing. An exceptional flex of her toes made him groan, alternating between that and the steady rubbing rhythm which was a never-ending scrape of agony. Even when she paused, the tightness of her toe-grip didn’t let up. Her toe imprints marked on his groin was like the wax seal upon a contract, designating him as her property.
He didn’t know for how long it went on, only that it felt like an eternity. But eventually, the agony peaked. The burning cramps traveled through his scrotum and up to his manhood. His increasing groans and hissing breath made her understand where he was at, and the frequency of toe-flexes increased. This orgasm was made of nothing but a sore tenderness, not a trace of pleasure detectable, so much so that Alden didn’t even know it was an orgasm until the mounting ache summoned a singular drop of cum from his tender cock. It dropped past his nose and put a dark dot of a stain on the soil.
The toes tossed him aside with a flick. He was nothing more than a spent ragdoll. “Get up, you worm.” Bertha’s words were immediate after his landing, not a moment’s rest was allowed. Her toes slapped the ground where she wanted him. “Return to worship. And I want the same quality of worship as before. If you don’t deliver, I swear, I’ll milk so much out of you that you’ll pass out.”
Alden slithered his way up onto his knees and kicked himself up. His lower abdomen and inner part of his upper thighs were a lump of feverish soreness, bringing some of his steps into a stumble. He made his way to the feet which lay sideways again, and he put his mouth to those toes again