Garrick floated on his back, drifting peacefully through the water. The sunlight was like a warm blanket on his naked front, while his backside was plunged in the water, cold at first but tepid now. The daylight lit up the darkness behind his closed eyes, his long brown hair spread behind him, and if given a snapshot of this moment in time it might have been something most men aspired to. Though the detail of the dark hardgum braces around his forearms revealed the truth of his captivity, suppressing his magic.

Like the predators they were, two large toes emerged to his sides and pinched his torso. The rest of the foot rose, the big and second toe bringing Garrick up with it. He suddenly tensed up to keep along with his out-of-water weight. The shin of a giant leg rose as well, somewhat pale with hints of a building tan. Summer had come.

“Lick.” That was the command coming from the mature lady’s voice, and Garrick didn’t argue. Even the internal debate in his head was gone as he flexed his spine to reach the big toe with his mouth. That phase was gone. There might be a blink, a flash where he realized how far he’d gone, but that was all there was, a flash. He’d simply do it afterwards, grabbing the nub of her big toe and massaging it with his mouth and tongue. Nothing less was expected of him and the six other slaves there, three of them kissing her breast and the three others her thighs.

Their captor, Liza, or Mommy as she decided they call her, reclined on the grassy shore of the lake near her remote cabin amidst the Koll mountains. She was in her mid-thirties, a worn and weathered look unable to tarnish a lady-like beauty underneath it. Her eighty-foot enormity was further assisted by her large physique, an ample pair of breasts, strong thighs, and massive feet spearheaded with ten supple, round, and mighty toes, the delicacy of which Garrick tasted now and had been the past weeks. No matter how much he sucked, there was always more toe flesh to be had on their bulbous expanse. At first, the muscles in Garrick’s throat and head would ache from all the worshipping, though as with everything else, he had gotten used to it.

What he hadn’t gotten used to, what he would never join the rest in, was Slave One to Four and their absolute commitment to this life. Garrick still couldn’t wrap his head around whether Liza had nothing but unparalleled luck to find four men who were willing to capitulate so willingly, or if there was a foolproof quality to the program of domination she ran them through, taking headstrong men of character and turning them into the slaves they were. For now at least, Garrick retained his mind, along with Slave Six, his friend Martin who he’d gotten captured with, and Slave Five, another mage who had to wear hardgum braces and who, despite having been here for some time, retained character.

Liza cupped her two hands together and brought the water over her head, washing her light-brown hair and combing it back. The symphony of worship continued. Most of the days were spent with the slaves in contact with her body. There was no rigid routine to the days where Garrick could find a particular weak point to exploit. A few times, he’d gotten the hardgum to dry enough that they were brittle, but hadn’t found a way to take advantage of that. If Liza stomped him, it would likely be enough, though that was only a theory so far. Bad behavior netted him a night sleeping from the hook on the wall, unable to provoke any sharp anger from her. This wasn’t something he’d comprehensively explored; making an enemy of her would make his time here most unpleasant, and that limited his exploration. Whatever idea came to mind, insulting her, not doing as she said, all the typical, near child-like displays of rebellion, he couldn’t see how it would ever net him a stomp.

Later, Liza let them off her and stepped out of the lake, the water cascading down her. “I’ll be right back, slaves.” Her trembling steps faded towards the cabin as she walked, the firm flesh of her ass and thighs jiggling. A few of the slaves watched her longingly despite having spent an hour just now upon her, despite having many more hours and days before them. Garrick could not take any of them seriously.

“So…” Garrick got up on the bank beside Harry and Martin, who sat a distance from the rest. “That temper you spoke of, I haven’t seen any of it.”

“What do you mean?” Harry said.

“You said she could get angry sometimes, unleash a tantrum. I haven’t seen a shred of anger in her.”

“You haven’t been here that long.”

Martin looked at him suspiciously. “Almost a month is a short time?”

“Compared to the rest, it is. And I did say it’s rare. Usually, it’s when one of the established slaves misbehave.”

Garrick rolled his eyes. “And when do they ever? Loyal unlike anything I’ve ever bloody seen.”

“Or like I said, when she got a bit jealous last time over a customer we had to worship. Since you’ve arrived, things have gone surprisingly smooth.”

“I heard there’s going to be a customer coming soon.” Martin delivered those news.

“How would you know that?” Harry said.

“I overheard the other slaves talking.”

“Another customer?” Garrick rubbed his hands together. “Could this be the chance?”

“There’s many different customers,” Harry said. “Some of them are her good friends. This idea I gave you of playing with her jealousy, I might have it made it sound easier than it is.”

Martin swiped his fingers over his hair. “Whatever it is, it’s a buckle to the trend. Most important thing is we keep our hopes up.”

“Slaves.” It was Liza’s voice, having returned from the cabin with a wooden bowl in hand.

Garrick realized all the other slaves had already gathered by her, and she was speaking to Garrick, Harry, and Martin. The three were separated from the rest, engrossed in their own conversation. From the bliss of being worshipped, Liza’s expression was less alive now, a coldness which carried troubled thoughts. Garrick could tell it was directed at the three of them. He couldn’t understand what it came from, but her displeasure made him hopeful.

The three of them joined the rest by her. Liza lay down with her back on the grass. The bowl she brought contained a thick lotion. Using her index and middle finger, she scooped up dollops of the pale, green balm and dotted it over her body. Seven separate blobs were left, one on each breast, one on her abdomen, two on her thighs, and two on her feet.

Garrick took her left breast. The lotion had the fragrance of lime, a fatty, thick consistence which Garrick had to knead out. The buoyant and yielding flesh didn’t make it easy to spread the lotion, but Liza liked when it required a lot of work. However, peering up across the nipple, Garrick noticed her face, her countenance, and saw the lack of her usual self. The closed eyes, the usually quiet moans which would emanate from her and be felt as soothing vibrations across her skin and especially her chest, they were all absent. Instead, her gaze drifted across the skies, empty and pervaded by thoughts. Garrick continued spreading the lotion, massaging her chest and nipple, and it did little to break her out of it. Even as he heard others kiss her body while working the lotion in, what Liza always did, indulge in their devotion, it didn’t come.

Instead, Liza sat straight without warning. Garrick, the slave on her other breast and the one on her abdomen, they tumbled down.

“Mommy?” Slave Three said.

Liza’s hand grabbed Harry of all. She planted her soles to the ground and stood straight up. “Keep an eye on Slave Six and Seven,” she said to the rest as she marched back to the cabin. “I’ll be right back.”