Rachel picked up the shoe from the floor, keeping it tilted toward the toe to ensure Sam was tipped off-balance until her face was close enough to fill up the voided opening of the mouth. Cowering on his haunches, Sam stared up the slightly-more-slippery incline of the heel slope, and could make out the stylish spectacle-decked hazel eyes above. Those laugh lines of hers formed cutely around the corners. Sam had never felt so low and helpless as he did now, and that included the previous one hundred and eighty minute session spent ruminating under muscular toes and an itchy nylon-wrapped foot island. Such a withering sensation caused him to withhold the insults he’d been preparing.
“No stupid remarks to make, I see,” Rachel said, instantly noticing the conflicted look on his shrunken face. “Good, you’ve at least learned to recognize when you’re in a pickle, and not to bite the hand that’s feeding you. Or at least holding you safely up in the air.”
Sam bit his tongue.
“Keep it up. You’re doing splendid,” she taunted, and lowered the shoe back toward the ground. Setting the object back on the carpet, Rachel eased her svelte limb back over the opposite knee. The nude fabric glistened on her leg’s shapely curves, revealing its existence again like an oasis mirage. Rachel’s thumbs coyly slid under the upper hem over her thighs, but she didn’t peel it away just yet. “What do you say?”
Taken aback, Sam swallowed the revolt in his throat. “T-Thanks.”
“Wow! You’re making tremendous strides, and it’s only been three hours and six minutes you were down there. That has to be much more effective than any kind of sensitivity training they might give you as a consolation instead of unemployment whenever you coerce your female coworkers into fucking you with their feet! Wouldn’t you agree, Samuel, that it’s much more efficient this way?”
Sam sputtered, but didn’t respond.
“Aww, looks like I struck a nerve, huh? Well, tell you what. I promised you we’d have a little talk once I’d broken you in a little, and unlike you, I know how to keep my word, even if I don’t respect someone. And if it’s not already obvious, I respect you less than you’ve ever respected anyone in your life,” Rachel explained. She rolled the nylon an inch at a time down her leg, slowly revealing the smooth, unencumbered skin beneath the pale stocking. Wrinkles formed and the rolled lip darkened from the stacked layers of silken material. “So here’s the deal. Climb up to the top of the shoe, and we’ll get you out of there for a proper conversation. No offense, but I’m not really in the mood to hurt my back leaning all the way over just so I can hear you squeaking at me.”
Unsure at first if the booming giantess was serious, Sam was convinced by the semi-alluring curl of her beckoning index finger. A come-hither look accompanied, but due to the context, it was more mocking than inviting: rather than silently asking him to come to bed with her, she was teasing him with the opportunity to escape from inside her own leather pump. A pump she’d just worn with him still within it. Sighing wearily, Sam decided his best chance now was to show she hadn’t broken him by answering the challenge, even if he was too nervous to tempt fate with some choice words.
The slope was even more intimidating now than when Sam was first dumped inside, probably because he’d witnessed firsthand how easily Rachel could get her gargantuan foot in and out of the tight tunnel. As before, he dug his little fingers into the spongy insole and commenced army-crawling upward. It was slow going. Sam kept his eyes to the ground, only looking up after a minute to find he’d only advanced a few inches. Not even halfway up. After Rachel had cooped her foot up inside for three hours straight, the resulting layer of perspiration left the ground even more devoid of friction, and Sam could feel his body threatening to slip with every rigid reach.
Rachel, meanwhile, was happily working her nylon further down. Most of her leg was unveiled, and while in any other circumstance Sam would’ve been drooling over this display of his lawyer peeling her stocking away right over him, he had to concentrate. Just as the garment passed under the lope of her heel, Sam watched too closely, got distracted, and felt himself about to slide back down to the bottom. He panted. All the work would be undone, and he’d be no closer to talking his way out of this idiotic charade.
“Look, give me a break, this is taking forever,” he gasped. “Just…”
His request was cut short, though, by the ominous flash of shadow, brush of muggy wind, and inevitable re-entrance of Rachel’s foot into the leather hovel. Her toes were pointed expertly down like a ballerina’s, aimed straight for the inch-tall nuisance struggling to maintain his grip on her heel’s high-arched hill. Only half her foot was still encased in the peeling nylon, and the rest of the loose gossamer seemed to wave from the anchor point of her ped like a flag. That hearty big toe rode the line down with ease, tracing the center of the worn-down insole, heading straight for Sam.
“W-Wait,” he sputtered, losing half an inch of ground already just from the mere sight of that thing barreling toward him. It was no use, though. Sam caught a glimpse of Rachel’s focused, victorious countenance between her wriggling toes. She was staring at him down there with such pride in her utter control over the situation, threatening him and his safety merely by shoving her foot back into her shoe. This was no bluff, either; the stocking-clad big toe sailed straight into Sam. Its force was blunted just enough to avoid outright harming him, but the impact was more than enough to knock him loose. Defeated by little more than a flick of Rachel’s toe, Sam tumbled back down and conked his head on the tip. Back to square one.
“Didn’t you listen?” Rachel wheedled like an irritated schoolteacher. “I said reach the top, then we talk. Not before. There’s an order here, just like in any courtroom. The difference is that I’m making the rules here, and people aren’t going to bow to your every whim just because you have money. Those zeroes in your salary aren’t going to do you a bit of good in my courtroom, squirt. Understood?”
“You’re go-”
“Choose your words very carefully,” Rachel interrupted, smirking. While her foot had retracted back out of the pump, her toes still thrummed on the mouth of the shoe, even gripping the leather tongue of the footwear and on the verge of flipping the heel over onto its side with nary a twitch. Silently, those fleshy boulders threatened him, almost independent of the giantess, even though they belonged to the same celestial body.
“Understood,” he grunted.
“Now there’s a smart boy.” Rachel’s voice was warm and buttery, almost seethingly congratulatory. It burned Sam to his core. “Anyway, where were we? Oh, that’s right, you were learning the easy way that I don’t fool around when I lay down the law with miniature perverts.”
Sam grimaced. The easy way? He shuddered to imagine what she considered hard.
“You get up here… keep your pretty little lips shut… and then we’ll have a chat. C’mon, now,” Rachel encouraged, her tone turning sweet again just as quickly as it soured. “Let’s see the big manly-man put his back into some real work.”
Exhausted, fuming, but not in the mood to be body-slammed by his massive lawyer’s netted toes again, Sam recommenced his alpine shoe ascent. Rachel, meanwhile, peeled the nude nylons the rest of the way off her enormous ped, freeing it at last. Her pinkish digits stretched and flexed with glorious abandon, and her sole crests caught the light just perfectly to momentarily distract the inch-tall man in her shoe, before he remembered what was at stake and continued. The giantess redirected her eye line to the computer screen on her desk, her fingers scuttling away at top speed on the keyboard, though her newly naked foot still hovered just above the pump, swaying back and forth, alternately casting Sam into shadow and glow whenever her shoe blotted out his view of the wider world.
With the first “practice” climb down, Sam at least had enough expertise to sink his fingers into the spongy earth for purchase and move forward without slipping every other step. Pungent notes of nail polish remover and earthy perspiration wafted from the felt fibers whenever Sam squeezed hard enough to hold his position. Scrunching his nose didn’t really cut it; the odor made its way into his lungs whether he wanted it or not, seeing as he was literally scraping his body up a sloped site regularly responsible for absorbing the fruits of Rachel’s labors, in liquid and stress forms both. He forced himself to ignore it.