Ten slaves, ten sentient creatures, strung up at her toes. Like a twisted marionette, the thin yet taut leather straps were buckled tightly to the leather rings around her toes, the opposite ends fastened tightly to hooks in the ground. Bound by their ankles and wrists in the middle of the leather straps were the pitiful and innocent slaves. Toys was likely a more apt word; not used for any meaningful labour, they were rather used for the entertainment of the rich and powerful, none more rich or powerful than the Pharaoh. As her heels and soles rested on a small foot stool, only her toes lay over the ledge, allowing maximum comfort while she exploited her possessions. Each twitch and pluck of her domineering digits pulling on the insect-sized beings, stretching them, an experience Nothing short of torturous for them. This sadistic system showed incredibly fine workmanship, of course constructed for this express purpose: the Pharaoh's twisted power fantasies. Sitting on her lavish throne, the interior heating of her chambers made her sweat slightly, the drops fell down the curves of her naked bronze body and left glistening trails. This is what she had been waiting for, so bogged down in her daily affairs, she had time to relax and play with her toys... and soon one of her other toys. For the slaves, the sweat trickled down in drops over them, bathing them in salt and odour. Even after her feet had been thoroughly cleaned by their compatriots beforehand. Looking upwards, the softer, pale undersides of her toes were visible, both the leather rings she had donned for this exercise in humiliation and her usual gold rings gripping them tightly. The upwards view was hardly preferable to the view on either side of them; their emaciated and tortured friends and colleagues, picked randomly from their pen by some air-headed servant girl a mere hour ago.

The minutes ticked by, the pharaoh in a meditation like trance, unconsciously inflicting pain on her unworthy toys with her wiggles and stretches. The slaves were becoming more and more delirious as time went by, each tug and stretch making their muscles ache, the minute injuries piling on. Eventually the trance was broken by the entry of Sitre, the Pharaoh's favourite "full sized" toy, as she occasionally called her harem behind their back. The young girl was darker and thinner than the pharaoh, but had proved herself as an obedient servant. Sitre entered the room, bowing and derobing, knowing the ritual. She stood against the wall, the Pharaoh inspecting her, a grin growing on her face.

"On all fours, down by my feet." a simple order from the Pharaoh, punctuated by the wiggle of her toes and a pointed finger.

Sitre got onto all fours, of course used to humiliation and servitude the Pharaoh expected. She crawled over to the resting feet, tan as always. Golden anklets lazily laying on the tops of her feet, rings hugging tightly to her toes. Sitre now noticed the leather bound toys controlled like puppets by strings from her toes. The Pharaoh frequently gave these minuscule things away as rewards for a good performance, and already she was eyeing them quite greedily. Positioned like a dog at her feet, she looked up at her mistress, expecting further orders.

"Lick them."

Sitre ran her tongue between the toes, not afraid to plant a kiss occasionally. The slaves cringed as warm saliva dripped from above, the sound of a giant muscle at work filled the air, thick from both the moisture of the feet and the warm breath emanating from above. The Pharaoh betrayed no sign of being impressed, not wanting to show the pleasure shooting up her legs. How easily she does what I say she thought, excited even more by the though of the slaves cowering in fear of someone that to her was so obedient and docile.

"Eat them, the slaves."

Obeying, Sitre moved to her far left, to the Pharaoh's first pinky toe. The slaves uniformly looked over to Sitre, the behemoth come to devour them. They were too tired and injured to protest or yell, but the fear they felt was as real as any person had ever known, to be so close to your fate and be able to do nothing. She angled her head as close as she could to the slaves, her warm and moist breath sending chills down their spines. As she opened her mouth, she displayed her ivory white teeth, the objects of their demise, and her red tongue, covered in saliva from her previous licking. Using her powerful incisors, she easily broke through the top half of the strap, freeing the slave. The slave was relieved of the pain and discomfort, the stretching halting, only to land with a squelch on the salivating and slightly studded red tongue, her teeth making quick work of the bottom strap. It was swished around in her mouth for only a few seconds, before being positioned over her powerful teeth, and give an quick, crushing death. It's body to be swallowed and digested in the stomach of the younger girl. One by one they were consumed, killed for the entertainment of a single sadistic woman. The Pharaoh watched this macabre display unfold, her arousal beginning to show as her womanhood moistened. Each time her toe was freed from its self-imposed bondage, a small pang of pleasure travelled up to her crotch, the feeling of a life being squelched out by her own orders, so casually as well. As the Pharaoh felt her tenth an final toe released from its flimsy leather bond, she wiggled her toes in satisfaction.

"Stop, don't kill that one." the Pharaoh requested, Sitre obeyed, holding the terrified thing in her mouth. 

The slave, rightfully afraid, heard the merciful request from outside the mouth. Knowing it had a few more minutes of life, it attempted to worm its way out of its bonds, the saliva proving to be a satisfactory lubricant, it managed to just slide out. Its limbs finally free, albeit in the cavernous maw of a servant girl.

"Move upwards." Sitre began to move towards her mistress, only to be blocked by the soft sole of her foot in her face. "Slowly."

Sitre, fulfilling the order, placed the slave towards the tip of her tongue. The powerful muscles and subtle movements easily surmounting the strength of such a disposable creature. Sitre, beginning with her mistress' ankle, ran her tongue up along the toned leg, the slave sandwiched between the smooth skin and slick appendage. Rolled like a rolling pin over dough, the spinning motion made the slave disoriented, the feeling only exacerbated when the motion was changed horizontally as she travelled around the bend of her knee, rolled on the supple inside of the voluptuous older woman's thigh. The Pharaoh was visibly affected, the sensation sending shivers down her thighs, exciting her sexually. As Sitre approached her womanhood, she retracted her tongue, slave in tow. She motioned towards the Pharaoh's genitals, only to move upward even more, to her lower stomach. The Pharaoh's harem were completely obedient, but they were not above a little teasing. Continuing on her journey, Sitre expertly navigated the toy along her firm midriff, circumnavigating the minuscule thing around her navel. The slave all this time was entire disoriented, the view shifting between the dark and warm cavern of Sitre's mouth, the warm breath and soft lips constantly surrounding it, the red surface of her tongue, and the firm brown skin of the Pharaoh. Sitre completed her long, almost unbroken motion, from the Pharaoh's foot to her neck, a fine trail of saliva left along her entire body. With a minimum of force, she ejected her passenger onto the collarbone of her queen, the slave struggling to find purchase. Going down to finish the job, Sitre left a single kiss on her neck, the monarch's gaze planted upward as she softly moaned. With its weakened arms, both from the torturous stretching and the vertical ascent, the slave just managed to claw itself onto the collarbone of the tremendous tyrant. Wiping the thick saliva from its eyes, it struggled with the vertigo from being so high up. The view of the other giantess blocked by the prodigious breasts of the Pharaoh. Looking upward, the jawline of the monarch dominated the sky above, the darker lips, painted purple with expensive make-up just jutting from the cliff-side like face.

As Sitre teased and worked on the Pharaoh's nether region, the Pharaoh began to writhe slightly, punctuated by moans of pleasure. As the show continued, she began to perspire more, the entirety of her body becoming slick. This was chaos for the abandoned insect perched precariously on her collarbone. Each movement threatening to plunge it towards a grizzly gravity induced demise. The Pharaoh, not quite forgetting about the toy just outside of her peripheral vision, but still known by its unending struggle to stay afloat, decided to have some fun. Pursing her lips as far down as they would go, gave a single, sharp blow towards where she felt the mountaineer to be. The hurricane like warm stream of air knocking it off balance, and making it fall. Landing on the firm but slick slope of her breast, the slave began to slide down, all the clawing and struggling not going to save it. Scrambling desperately, the inevitability of the situation daring not set in for the slave, in case it lose its will to fight. Reaching the terminal point, it landed with a minute plop onto her erect nipple, the slave, calling upon all the adrenaline reserves in its body, held on tight to the cocoa teat. This triggered a sudden response from the Pharaoh, digging her fingers into the armrests of the throne and clenching her toes with a strength that would have obliterated a slave if any were still unfairly chained to the lowest part of her body. Arms weak, the dangling plaything clawed its hands into the rough surface, too small to cause any discomfort to the much larger being. In a rare show of mercy, the Pharaoh plucked the survivor off of her nipple, instead holding it against the gentle curve of the right side of her body. As she removed her finger, the slave again slid down the slick skin, the urface providing just enough gripe to slow the slave down, provided it gripped tight. As her hip approached, the womanly curves provided just enough of a slope to slow down the descending slave to a stop, just at the edge. The slave considering its position, decided the seat of the throne below provided too dangerous of a drop. The slave concluded the safest bet was to land on her softer thigh, adjacent to which was Sitre's head, held firmly between the brown mountains as she continued her lewd display. Dropping down, and landing with a small bounce, there was a few seconds of recovery. The air filled with the sound of the passionate act. Standing upright for the first while in some time, the slave was instantly and unexpected swatted from the side by a tan palm.

The slave gripped tightly to the short curly hairs of the living landscape's bush; providing a very precarious position. Looking upward, the goddess-like face of the pharaoh was obscured by her large breast, but the view was difficult to appreciate, as behind the slave was the giant face of Sitre. The slave was positioned just at the point of her nose, each slight motion forward bracing the tip painfully on its back. Below, the lewd view of Sitre's tongue and lips pleasuring her mistress's womanhood. The slave gripped on tight, knowing a fall would mean the uncomfortable experience of being involved in the tornado of pleasure, and quite likely its death. The motions became faster, more intense, the moaning deeper; she was nearing climax. The slave, praying to all the benevolent gods it knew, begged for protection from these evil and sadistic ones. The motions increased again, the Pharaoh bucking and swaying her hips in response to Sitre, causing the slave to shake back and forth, colliding against her rough hair covered skin. Arms screaming in pain, the slave begged the Pharaoh, the very one tormenting the tiny being for mercy. Not that it would be heard, or if it was, that she even cared. With a loud, guttural moan, the Pharaoh ceased her movements, juices pooling on the chair seat. Sitre pulled her head away, wiping any residue from her face. With a slight splash, the slave, weakened, exhausted, and in excruciating pain, landed in the pool. The shorter drop still tough on the fragile being, bruising the receiving side. The Pharaoh drew a haggard breath, just now looking down between her thighs and noticing the resilient survivor, two entire trips along her body, up and down. Impressive, she thought. Looking up at Sitre, her naked body standing tall, but still bowing her head. She still a servant to the Pharaoh, even for such an intimate duty. The Pharaoh realised she too was eyeing the pitiful thing. 

"Oh? Would you like to take this one? It must have a real fighting spirit to survive." she said as she picked it up. Sitre nodded meekly, this one was truly a fighter. "Take it." she said as she offered it, the poor thing lying in her open palm. "Oh do be gentle with it though, it must be exhausted after all that."

"You know I won't be, mistress." she said as her leaving remark as she bowed.

The Pharaoh leaned back, I have trained her well she thought to herself. "Bring in five more slaves." she called out to the servants at her door. The night was still young, and she hand more plans for the little things.