Sev measured his surroundings under the table. He was on a rough tweed carpet, plain without patterns. Four legs and square-shaped, the table was rather small for giants. It sat against the side of a large, crude cupboard, the width of which spanned almost hallway across the tableside. The bottom shelf of the cupboard had plenty of its contents spilled, a few animal and human figurines fit for some board game giants played. They were near Sev’s size.
”Think they work for a guild, those mages?” the other lady who was with Thora said.
Thora Thunderfoot glanced down at her feet, at the several mages tied around them. “Hired by a noble, I’d wager. Judging by their clothes. Though we’ll soon find out. There’ll be nothing left for them to hide once I’m done with them.”
Someone else entered. The young lady was older than Sev, just barely, for she looked to be in her mid-twenties. She had a curvy form with wide hips, where her beige, ragged tank top ended. A firm bust and stout thighs, she had a size to her that made her arrival noticeable. She wore a short skirt doing little to cover those thighs, carrying a plate with refreshments. A basic servant. She headed for Thora, made small in comparison the closer she got to her. Thora took a glass of something dark-red, likely wine, and a cluster of grapes from the plate. The servant came back but didn’t head for the door. Those legs were pedaling towards him, those feet stamping his way, and Sev retreated. He stumbled on a stupid figurine and fell, landing on the unforgiving, raspy surface of the tweed. A click sounded above him, the plate being put on the table, and the servant sat on the chair. She lurched the chair forward, the underside of her breasts disappearing above the table ledge. Both her legs were cast out beside one another, resting right before Sev. Ten giant toes in line before him, a sight that had grown too common lately. But she didn’t know he was here. They weren’t poised to meet him. They were relaxed, uninterested. Their interest might spark up if they knew he were there, but Sev couldn’t afford that.
“There’s more money being thrown around,” the other lady in Thora Thunderfoot’s room said. “More expensive bounty hunters, more mages being recruited. They see us as a problem.”
“I’ll show them problems. Next, I plan on—”
A pop took Sev’s attention. The servant’s toes were flexing about idly, the joints giving off a few crackles after a long day. Something about her simple stature made them prettier. Thora’s unrivalled mightiness was daunting, it made one feel small and insignificant. The lust was almost cancelled out by fear. But the servant might not think much of herself, sitting on her chair, bored, waiting for Thora to finish her drink. She didn’t know what power and beauty she still carried, and it felt easier to appreciate them when he wasn’t expected to. It reminded Sev of the charm he’d always found in Tara and her feet.
In a slow, repositioning move, the servant’s left foot scraped across the rug. Sev skipped back in caution. A few figurines were caught and stacked together. Feeling playful, the left foot rose and sorted through them, picking a man-sized figure out of the clutter. Her toes played with the wooden, clothed thing, representing a knight for whatever board game they had, who raised one arm high in command while the other rested on his waist. Those soft toes deformed and bulged out so plentily as they clenched over the statuette’s body, yellow from pressure. They explored all his wooden limbs, and oh how Sev wished he was the doll. As long as the appendages weren’t applying too much force, it was a full body massage, squeezed in a cushy coffin of toe flesh.
“That’s how they’ll best be attacked, and that’s the best time to do it,” Thora said to a sudden flash of Sev’s attention that reminded him there was a task at hand.
“What?” Sev muttered to himself. “An attack? Where? When? Fuck.” He’d let himself be distracted by the servant’s— They moved again. The right foot joined the left one, plucked the figurine between the second and big toe, and essentially used it to scratch between the toe gaps. It felt too dexterous to be automatic and unintentional. But she hadn’t shifted much in her seat, hadn’t looked under the table. The movement was surprisingly fluid. But Sev recognized he wasn’t safe. If the movement of her feet progressed this way, surely some entanglement with all this clutter would demand the servant to take a quick look under the table and adjust position. That quick look would spot him. Sev had to take measures.
He headed towards the loose flap of the tent near the cupboard. If any unpredictable development came about, he’d have a quick way out. However, he heard the scrape against the rug rush up behind him. Sev turned to see the left foot’s sideways sweep rush up against him, and he jumped. A successful dodge, her toes swiped beneath him and threw a few figurines along the way. She sat wide-legged, baring her dark panties, and of course that left, beautiful leg had to place the foot right at the exit Sev wanted to get close to. The toes leaned against the side of the cupboard, scratching against wood. They were awfully curious, probing whatever they found. Getting near them was dangerous, any sudden movement would find him. And right now, he couldn’t trust all the fidgeting he’d seen from her so far.
“That next shipment should help,” Thora said, Sev snapping himself back to the moment. “A lot of expensive, magical stuff in there, it’ll make a fortune on the black market. They’ve got a safe route to take it through. It’ll take the road up—”
Undecisive, restless, and on edge, that left foot returned, as if this carpet were a dirty floor and her sole the brush. Sev ran the opposite way. But her feet moved towards one another, flanking him, which Sev realized too late, rushing straight into the opposite member and all the figurines it swept along the way. Sev was caught in the clatter of wood and thrown down, his body rolling over harsh tweed. It became dark. He was sealed in amongst a rubble of the dolls, her two feet resting protectively over them and pushing him down.
“Are you serious?” Sev whispered to himself. Instinct made him want to squirm into a better position, but he stopped himself. This was an inanimate heap of dolls. No matter how slight his movement was, if her conscious mind registered any response under her feet, it would provoke her attention. Sev had to join his wooden peers in their inanimate existence.
Her feet broke the heap of figurines apart, spreading them like a lump of butter scraped over this tweed bread. Strokes of her rather rough sole flesh grazed over Sev’s body. The end of a long day and her low stature left them subject to a lot of wear. Sev tightened his core, legs, and arms, turning himself into a stick. The way one drums one’s fingers over the table, the servant’s toes rolled up and down, the third toe bopping Sev’s chest. He had to minimize any differences for those toes to detect. His buoyant, corporeal body was of course nothing like these wooden models, but only if she paid attention. Peering up past the toes, the ankle, the lovely calf and thicker thighs now modestly covering the area between her legs, the servant was still leaned onto the table.
Even the ankles went to rest as the feet settled down. The toes found their place, and the fourth one of her right foot was on top of Sev’s face, possessively resting over the right side of his face and forcing his left cheek into the rug. Full contact with the skin of his face wasn’t enough for her to know, thankfully.
Slowly, a new problem crept up. His manhood rose again, poking into the wet stain and reminding him of his previous affair. The recent orgasm wasn’t enough to quell his urges. Rough, the dirty lines on the underside of her toes demanded a cleaning. Sev knew deep down that they begged for his delicate care.
He stuck his tongue out, as if trying to lap up a smudge of sweetness stuck on the side of his cheek. The tip of Sev’s tongue made contact, no more forceful than the drop of a feather. Unable to put the full surface of his tongue against it, he had to let the tip sit, let it soak the taste up, and eventually the salty warmth he knew so well registered on his taste buds. Strangely, the outer set of her toes contracted, primarily the fourth one, smushing his face under its plump bottom. They scraped over his tongue, searching for his worship. It had a gentle and smooth character, not the aggressive clawing he was used to. The servant had not looked down, unaware still. The faint movement combined with his frozen posture didn’t give much action to ignite her awareness. However, the sensation was being registered. On some small, local level, her toes knew there was someone here. They’d located the odd one out amongst the figurines, the dim flexion becoming a way to ask for his love. Rejection was unfortunately the only way. A quick glance up into Thora’s room was a good reminder of where he was. Tied around her feet like apparel, all the mages were in for a nightmarish time. If Sev should call for her with a cheeky, sharp kiss, it would not be the reciprocal affair of two lovers. Sure, he might find himself intimately close to the feet he was so interested in, but that was only half the story. This was where humans were treated like toys.
Lying still had never been so hard. Sev’s fingers literally trembled from the effort of not kissing, of not taking a hard lap at her toe, of snatching a chunk of flesh between his jaws and biting to end this temptation. She was lucky. She didn’t have to endure the tease, she could sit there in her continued obliviousness, bored while waiting for Thora to finish her drink. Sev chanted encouraging thoughts to himself, to stay strong, ignore that stiffening manhood and its wish to indulge. The only reason he was here was to earn Velvet’s help. Undoing all that by getting captured, all while succumbing to lust, there would be nothing more pitiful. He thought about being strung up to Thora’s feet the way the mages currently were, tortured every day, and he’d spent all that time wallowing in regret and shame. Those thoughts helped keep his tongue in check, helped repel the careless urges brought about from his manhood.
The servant’s foot shifted forward, a wall of warm flesh sliding over him. By instinct, Sev opened his mouth to scrape by what he could earn. Through the unrest, he caught some quick love. The foot turned up, putting the heel down right on top of Sev’s chest and head. The rest of her foot rose over him, the soft toes now far out of reach and teasingly fidgeting about up there. Instead, his open lips had received a shoved-up serving of her heel. The heel was rough, harder, and there Sev could feel her status, how much she’d milled about doing to everyone else’s favor and how little care anyone had given her.
“My drink is finished!” Thora’s voice boomed from the room, and the foot that had held Sev quietly captive shot away from him in an instant, shoving him and the figures down a short distance.
“Yes madam,” she said, a voice finally given to this young lady. Sev saw those feet patter away as she left the table, plate in hand into Thora’s room. They might have made a pretty duo, some time. But that was a dream, another day. For now, Sev returned to reality, taking the chance to scurry on out under the flap.