Emynda sat in front of the sink, her phone propped up against the mirror in selfie mode. "So this is Urban Decay, Blackest Black. And, God, I just love it. Love it, love it, love it."

She dragged the waxy pencil carefully across the top of her eyelid, then drew it away, blinking rapidly. She held the pencil up to the camera, making sure the logo was visible, and said, "This was a gift, so thank you, Unus202. I never would have picked it otherwise, but I think I'll use it forever. If you ever come to Utah..."

The bathroom door banged loudly, and Emynda looked back at the door with horror. Locked, fortunately, but still... "Are you ready, Em?" the voice shouted from the other side.

"Just a minute, mom!" Emynda yelled back. Ah, fuck. She'd have to edit that part out, and probably splice in a new thank-you message for the donor who had provided the makeup. A little view into her personal life played well, which was why she was doing the makeup routine bit in the first place, but nobody wanted family drama, and she surely didn't want to seem like a little kid on an adult video.

Well, her footage was fucked, and she had almost finished recording it as a single unbroken scene. She breathed a sigh, slapped the eyeliner pencil down onto the counter, and looked at the camera like she was a character from The Office. If she had to splice footage together, there was no point any more in pretending that this was an organic, natural event.

"Shit..." she whispered. Nothing to do about it now, though. Just keep rolling. She brightened up and carried on applying her eyeliner. "It took so long for me to get this right," she said. "I used to be terrified of coloring my waterline, I always thought that there would be an earthquake or something and I would poke my eye out."

She finished the pencil-thin line and giggled, "But look, doesn't it look so much better?" she asked, leaning into the camera to showcase her work. "Just a little bit, especially with a color this dark."

She straightened up and tossed the pencil into her makeup organizer, opening up the bottom drawer and producing a tiny jewelry box. "One last thing," she said. She popped open the lid of the box and showed the contents to the camera. "Look at our volunteers!"

A quarter inch-tall woman tumbled out of the box and onto the counter; apparently she had been too aggressive in showing them off to the camera. "Oh, shit," she muttered. She put the jewelry box down, carefully plucked the woman up between her thumb and forefinger, and placed her back in the container. The other passenger, a man who she had stored at closer to a third of an inch, because of the roles that they had picked beforehand, apparently had a kind heart, helping the woman to her feet after she sprawled out onto the plush velvet of their shared prison.

She turned the box so that the camera could see the pair. "So here's our lovebirds. We'll call them... Oh... Harry and Sally..." She was playful about it, but they had been very specific about not letting anyone know their real names as a condition for matching with her for the video. "They've been in there for quite a while..." Since she started putting on her makeup, actually. So, like, thirty minutes, at most, but the implication of a shrunken prisoner played better. "Do you think they... You know?"

She let the question hang, and looked down as if discovering them for the first time. "Oh, he's quite a bit bigger, isn't he?" she giggled. "Oh, Sally, you poor thing... Now..."

Emynda reached over to her makeup organizer, bending over far more than was necessary; she wanted her cleavage in the shot, and she wanted her breasts to loom threateningly over the shrunken pair. She grabbed two pieces of jewelry and straightened up, holding them up for all to see.

"Now, we're going to church, you two, so no weird stuff," she said, making a show of lecturing the shrunken pair in the jewelry box. "I've got a tongue piercing, and a toe ring." She placed the two pieces of jewelry, both quite a great deal larger than the shrunken pair, in their velvet prison. "So you pick where you go."

A lot of this was for show. They had already agreed beforehand where they would go, and they had agreed that they would make a show of arguing about it. She had to admit, getting to see him be scared off by a woman three-quarters his size was pretty amusing. The jewelry pieces were specially-designed alternatives to her normal jewelry, built to carry shrunken prisoners as comfortably as possible. But the fact remained that they were subjecting themselves to a painful, humiliating experience, and every part of their existence, while trapped in it, would be in her control.

For the next few hours, despite the deals they had made to keep things professional, they were her property.

After about half a minute of a hilarious but somewhat unconvincing scuffle, the woman stood straddling the tongue piercing, and the man stood, seemingly a bit dejected, in the middle of the toe ring. "There we go," Emynda said. "And good work, Sally!"

Emynda lowered her head down to the counter and opened her mouth, stretching out her tongue and displaying the hole where the piercing was supposed to go. "Aaah!" She leaned back up and said, "Are you ready? Strap in!"

The shrunken woman obeyed, maybe with a bit of reluctance, or maybe Emynda was imagining things. But she bound herself, head to toe, along the straight metal rod of the tongue piercing.

Emynda reached down and grabbed the piercing, and the round barbell that would fasten it into her tongue. A quick press of the rod, and the spring-loaded binds wrapped fast around the shrunken woman's wrists and ankles, and, as an added bonus, her neck, holding her immobile, as comfortably as possible, but helpless to whatever Emynda designed for her.

And Emynda treated her as mechanically as any other tongue piercing, save for the fact that she wanted the camera to see every part of the routine. She wove her rigid body headfirst through the hole in the bottom of her tongue... God... that never stopped feeling weird... And laid her tongue flat against the bottom of her mouth to push her all the way through.

Then came the barbell, which she screwed down until it wouldn't turn anymore, just a millimeter away from the shrunken woman's head. Her little toy was securely fastened now, and she stuck out her tongue at the camera to prove it.

"There you go, Sally!" she exclaimed. She knew damn well that every word was pure chaos to the little woman now, and she loved it. "Now, Harry, it's your turn!"

*****

Hunter had been plagued with regrets ever since Emynda had locked him in the jewelry box with Sheryl. He had thought he had gone into this level-headed about the experience, but being this small, this naked, this vulnerable... It wasn't a great feeling.

He hadn't expected to have a woman with him, either. And Sheryl had definitely caught his eye when they had met Emynda together at that Starbucks, but, now, whatever sex appeal had come with this shared experience was gone. Both of them were stark naked, but she had been shrunken down even more than he had, and they had to just sit there and wait as the giantess, whose voice they could hear but not understand from within their dark, cushy prison, decided to use them as her props.

Every once in a while, they looked at each other, as if sharing the same thought. We're both stuck here, we're both naked, and we're both basically sex toys... Should we? But the words were never spoken and the deed was never done; she was too small, he was too big, and the future was too uncertain. They knew that, the moment the top came off this box, they would have a camera on them, and that would be the worst possible time to be trying to figure out how he could fit inside her.

So it had been curiously stinging when the giantess taunted them about the sex that they hadn't had. Hunter let himself imagine that it would have been better if they had just gone ahead and done it, but there was no point. They were both in this mess for the rest of the day.

Sheryl fastened herself into her piercing prison, and the giantess, each of her fingers the size of skyscrapers, and her mouth a bottomless pit of wet, writhing pink flesh, expertly fastened her into a permanent position as her tongue ring, making sure the world could see her work by opening her mouth wide and sticking out her tongue. Hunter knew his own crucible as shrunken ornament was soon to follow, and the goddess didn't disappoint. "Now, Harry, it's your turn!"

The ring at his feet, larger than he was, was a simple creation. It was a straightforward, tension-bound adjustable ring, but with fasteners on either end for his wrists and ankles. He could slide into it comfortably, but, the moment she put it on her toe, it would stretch out, spread his limbs and trap his body against her foot.

He still wasn't sure he was doing the right thing here, but he looped his legs into the fasteners anyway, then his arms afterwards. The giantess watched as he did so, her face the picture of excitement. When she was satisfied that he had sufficiently immobilized himself, her grin broadened, and she reached down to grab the ring.

Her fingers closed around him with terrifying speed for their size, and the world span with a sudden and dizzying motion as he was lifted into the air and brought down to the massive woman's foot. The fasteners were still loose, so he had to hold on tight to keep from sliding out and being thrown off into oblivion in the chaos of the motion. But then, abruptly, the motion stopped.

Looking up, the giantess was in a deep crouch with her legs held together, her flexibility reduced by a dress that was certainly not appropriate for church. Her head was visible over her bare knees, her phone in the other hand and pointed down at him. He was so small that, even though he could make out the toe ring on the screen, he couldn't even see himself in the selfie view.

The binds on his arms and legs grew tight, and smooth, surprisingly cool skin pressed against his back as she slid him onto the second toe of her right foot. The tugging at the bonds grew almost painfully tight as he slid over the first knuckle, but it settled into a comfortable captivity when she left him about halfway on her toe.

"There, doesn't that look cute!" Emynda exclaimed, bringing the phone down so he could see his own prison up close. Spread-eagled, bare naked, and pinned against a toe that was five times his own size, his position looked pathetic to him, but he had to admit that it was a bit exciting. The moment she stood up, she would forget about him, a helpless, motionless ornament, albeit with a hell of a view.

"Do you want to know a secret, little guy?" she asked conspiratorily. Her voice was low, nearly a whisper, but her phone was right next to her head; her audience would hear what she said as clearly as he did. "I don't like panties."

My God.

She stood up, and, true to her word, Hunter was treated to an incredible view up the knee-length, dark blue, form-fitting dress that she was wearing. Smoth, toned legs ascended skyscraper-like seemingly into eternity, meeting at the junction of her hips, with a gap between the two split down the middle by a narrow line of dark brown, wrinkly flesh.

It was right there, but it was an eternity away. Hunter felt an erection growing that he knew that, for the next few hours, he wasn't going to do anything about.

*****

Sheryl was bound to the tongue piercing like a witch at the stake, her legs tied around each other, her arms tied behind her back, and a bind fastened tight around her neck for good measure. The binds were not tight enough to be painful, but they were tight enough to be a little arousing, and more than tight enough to keep her from moving, no matter what happened.   

And there was a lot happening. The giantess' tongue, a red-hot, pulsing muscle that wrapped around every curve of her body like a fleshy glove, seemed like it never stopped moving. It flexed as it squirmed around, hardening intantly around her body with such force that she could barely breathe, then relaxing without warning. It moved chaotically, ripping her across what seemed to her like massive distances with lightning speed, the dark interior of Emynda's mouth becoming a blur of motion.

It even changed in shape as it moved, flattening out or bunching up seemingly at random, and Sheryl, trapped in place, had to endure it all. When it flattened out, she was exposed all the way down to her navel, but there certainly was no respite from the heat in the tiny chamber of the massive woman's mouth. The stainless steel barbell that held it in place, larger than her head, was just above her, but she was spared being pushed up into it by the bindings.

At its thickest, the muscular flesh consumed her entire body, burying her in darkness and presssing down on her every curve with unbelievable pressure, forcing the air out of her lungs. It happened suddenly, without any warning, and multiple times a minute. And each time was terrifying, claustrophobic, and incredibly erotic.

At her size, in her position, she functionally was the giantess' tongue piercing. She lived in her mouth, and the tongue was an unruly roomate, a merciless jailer, and a carniverous predator all at once. But Sheryl knew that, despite the chaos that she experienced in every waking moment, what Emynda was doing to her was not only totally natural, but completely thoughtless.

And that really turned her on.

But, when Emynda spoke, the experience ascended above pure eroticism, and she found herself communing with the divine. Blinding light and chilling air flooded in from open lips, and a booming voice, so loud, so present, so dominating that she couldn't even make out the words it spoke, shook her to her bones. And all of that came with the most furious, most unpredictable motions of the tongue that held her prisoner.

She was nothing to the goddess. Less than nothing. Barely deserving of a single thought, a piece of jewelry that most people forgot they were even wearing. But, at the same time, she was here, in the heat of her body, a witness to her private life that nobody else could ever have experienced. Exhibitionism and voyeurism, subjugation and domination all wrapped in one.

It was the most erotic thing she had ever experienced. Her hands were tied, but she had been very deliberate about positioning her legs when she slipped them into the binds. Her right leg was wrapped around her left, her knees crossed over each other and her thighs pressed together. She didn't have much purchase, but, if she moved her hips just the right way and flexed her thighs with the just the right rhythm, then she could stimulate her clit just barely enough. She was sensitive enough down there that, with patience, and with the aid of the constant erotic stimulation of being trapped inside the giantess' tongue, she could work her way to orgasm. She had done it before, both in the comfort of her own bed and so surreptitiously in public that her own boyfriend had failed to notice, and now she would do it while living as a tongue piercing for a goddess.

What she didn't expect was that the constant motion, the way that the single, massive muscle that consumed her body would squeeze her tight and then relax, over and over again, would do her work for her. It did not escape her when she felt her pussy grinding against the top of her thigh, the electric sensation that started to fill her at the stimulation, that she was doing almost nothing to make it happen.  If this was going to carry on, she wasn't going to be able to do anything to stop it. Her bonds, and her flesh prison, were too tight for her to fight against; she was just along for the ride.

She tried to suppress it, tried to wriggle out of it. But, every time the giantess' tongue twitched, every time it flexed, it bent her body around just slightly enough to delicately massage her crotch against her thigh, and she just didn't have the freedom of movement to pull away. And, eventually, she didn't have the willpower to do anything but go along.

It was only about twenty minutes before she came for the first time, her entire body tightening helplessly against her bonds and her mouth opening to let out a gasp. But, at that moment, Emynda's tongue surged to the roof of her mouth, plunging the tongue piercing down, and Sheryl was engulfed in flesh that tightened brutally around her entire body.

She couldn't move. She couldn't breathe. Her entire body was twitching helplessly, immobilized, wracked with pleasure that she desperately wanted to vocalize but physically couldn't.

Oh fuck... Oh, fuck... Oh, fuck!

*****

From down here, the giantess' motions were a thrilling ride and a hypnotic sight. Emynda was wearing dress sandles, so Hunter was not spared a single part of the experience. He could watch the world rush by as her foot lifted off the ground, feel the plunge in his stomach as he soared with it across what felt like miles, and the booming, jarring impact of her step landing.

There was so much about it that he had never thought about before. The way her foot flicked outwards when it came up off the ground, the double-impact of her heel and the ball of her foot, the way that her weight rolled forwards as she carried on, and how it caused the soft flesh of her foot to flatten outwards, tightening the ring just enough for him to notice.

Trapped on her right foot, his world was a steady rhythm of motion, impact, sudden stability and a brief pause before it all started again. He watched, fascinated, at the incredible but completely thoughtless motion. Her foot hit the ground, sending a shock up her entire leg and her thigh muscles tightened up, all the way up to the curve of her ass, as her leg bore her weight. Then it all let up abruptly and he was swung forwards a thousand miles to a new spot to watch it all happen again.

He could stare at it for hours. The way her ass flexed and her hips rocked... It never got old. She had also asked if he wanted to be her nipple ring, but, once she confirmed that she was going to wear sandals, he had to admit that being stuck in the stuffy confines of her bra would get boring pretty fast.

What made it so much better was that he was here, watching this incredible sight, in plain view of everyone she came across, and nobody even bothered looking down at him. Not her parents, not passers-by, not even the people she was chatting with in church. He even got to see up more than a few other skirts over the course of the first hour or so, including some that he didn't particularly want to. Was she doing that on purpose, or was that just what it was like having an ant's eye's view?

His erection was painfully hard, and completely shameless at this point. He was a voyeur to the entire world, but he only had eyes for one pair of hips, and the thin slice of nirvana between them. Would she agree to use him as a sex toy once this was over?

It would be a hell of a way to end Easter.

He rode along as a silent witness to the normal rhythms of a church service. Greetings, music, a prayer, and, finally, everyone settled in for the sermon. Emynda took her seat, and Hunter was deprived, unfortunately, of the most exciting part of his experience. She crossed her left leg over her right, and he was left there on the floor, staring up at her shins crossed over each other, and little else.

It was quiet for a little while, even a little boring. Then her big toe, which so far had been a relatively placid neighbor, despite being easily ten times his size, flexed in a move that took him completely by surprise. Even after being this small for this long, even she had shown that even minor moves were mountainous in scale to him, the sudden motion was terrifying. Her toe reached over, as if it had a will of its own, pressed down on the ring just inches from his legs, and rolled it over.

Suddenly, he was no longer facing up, but sideways. The thin gap between the knuckle of her big toe and the toe that he was on, widened by the strap in the sandles, was like a cavern, and he was hanging over it feetfirst. And he was completely helpless as the toe repeated the motion, this time pressing against his face and rolling him completely underneath her toe.

With the ring flipped around a full hundred and eighty degrees, Hunter was now caught between the weight of her foot at his back and the leather surface of the sole of her shoe at his face. The light and fresh air of the outside, his view of heaven, was gone, replaced by darkness, and the heat and the sweat under her foot.

She wasn't putting any of her weight on him, but the pressure was still substantial. It wasn't painful, but what freedom of motion he had before was squashed underneath the bulk of her toe. Every breath was somewhat laborious, laden as it was with heat and the taste of sweat. But if she left him here when she started walking...

As if she read his mind, she pressed her weight down into her shoe. The pressure immediately increased a hundredfold, crushing his body with force that should have broken every bone in his body. He couldn't breathe, the blood pounding in his head was deafening, the hot, sweaty flesh of her foot sank deep into the sole of her shoe, driving him helplesly down along with it.

It lasted for a three second-long eternity, and then she abruptly let up. Stars danced in his vision, and the sudden relief was amost euphoric. He took a deep, ragged breath, heavy with her stench. He almost wanted her to do it again, and he felt his cock flex almost involuntarily.

God. Stimulated almost constantly for the last few hours and with almost no chance at relief, his libido had reached stratospheric heights. He even found this... torture... the hottest thing in the world. And when she started walking...

Oh, fuck. When she started walking, the rhythm, the pressure, the rubbing of her foot against her body, of his body against her shoe, and with it the deeply erotic and careless way that she treated him like just another piece of jewelry... He would cum under her foot almost inevitably, and he wouldn't be able to do anything to stop it.

And she would have no idea.