Elizabeth clenched her pristine teeth in the dark, the edges grinding against each other in rage. She *deserved* far better than this! She was Princess! Elizabeth choked on her tears and mewed to herself impudently, vainly tearing at the leather ring on her throat. In the pitch black she coughed and writhed on the floor in a frustrated tantrum, utterly humiliated and lacking the dignity that someone of her position deserved. The elves, the bloody elves, damn them to hell! Those colossal monsters had simply waltzed into her kingdom and stepped over, literally, whomever they wished; and for what reason? Just because they were able. Elizabeth had never felt so utterly defeated, unable to resist in the slightest; only to weakly complain in the dark to herself, unheard to even her captors. 

The collared princess' fit was interrupted by a series of approaching booms, the slight 'slap' of leather on polished porcelain clearly audible. She had been thrown around her tiny box enough to know when one of those colossal elves were approaching. The human woman instinctively braced herself to the opposite wall from the approach; even if she was trapped it was natural to shrink from one's enemies. The slapping increased in intensity, and without even seeing the monster that towered over her she already felt inadequate before them.

Without any warning whatsoever Elizabeth was thrown back and knocked onto her behind. It was difficult to pinpoint what was happening, only that she could suddenly see light and was skidding painfully along the mysterious material of the box. It was just a kick from the towering behemoth that sent the house sized box tumbling down; and before the mousy girl could scramble back into the comforting darkness from the cold ground the same foot that had toppled it slid it across the floor. 

Elizabeth was completely mortified by the monstrous elf before her. Her intimidating figure was apparently one dainty and slender, and despite that she was still over eighty human feet tall. Her pale skin was partially covered by long, white stretches of toga-like fabric that hung from her shoulders and gripped around her waist, exposing her lithe arms and athletic legs; also accentuating her wide hips and taut chest. Her face was flawless, high yet soft cheekbones and dainty nose providing a very regal aesthetic; and being an elf of course her ears were long and sharp, seven or so feet long. She had eyes that were an exotic purple, and hair that was a pure white like silk. Despite her raw strength and power, she commanded such elegance and grace, the kind Elizabeth would have envied even at her previous position, let alone now she was naked and choked like a dog. 

The smirking elf smugly lorded over the tiny creature between her feet. So this is the princess? She thought to herself, what an utterly pitiful sight. It really just confirmed all her prejudices about the diminutive race; they were both princesses, only the human was bound like an animal and cowering at the elf's feet. She was beautiful enough she supposed, as generally brutish as humans looked she seemed to look 'more elven', and may even pass for one had she not been so small and didn't have those peculiar little human ears. "So you're the princess? Well, former princess I should say," she deliberately teased, smiling daggers at her new pet.

The towering woman's voice was so loud, like a choir in a cathedral, and it was just enchanting too. Elizabeth didn't know if she should answer her question, but before she weighed the options she found she was already nodding. 

"Excellent! You wouldn't *believe* how hard it was to convince mother to let me have you, she thought I'd settle for any piddling human duke or duchess. No, I wanted YOU to be my pet."

Pet? Elizabeth didn't appreciate the sound of that... Such a term should be reserved for animals, not people, and especially not princesses! A pathetic angered descended on the human, she didn't need to take this torment from some stuck up elf bitch just because they lost an unfair war. Elizabeth prepared to dart away and resist this knife-eared she-devil... But she took another look at her evil amethyst eyes and realised that perhaps now wasn't the right time.

"My name is Princess Laylaia, although I'd prefer you addressed me as 'ma'am', me being your owner naturally."

The relationship 'Laylaia' desired was becoming more clear. Elizabeth grunted inaudibly, her chest was so heavy, her stomach devouring itself in stress. Not a month ago she was one of the most powerful people in the nation! To lose everything so quickly... This must have been some sort of dream, or nightmare, or a message from God to learn humility; anything if this wasn't real. 

The human woman averted her gaze, down below to the elf's feet... She realised what she had done and instantly looked back up and to the side, blushing. 

Laylaia noticed her... 'odd action'. Did she really just take a peek at her feet and act embarrassed about it? She was wearing sandals so they were very much exposed, her nails pedicured to be shiny, clean and well-trimmed. Surely Laylaia wasn't that fortunate, this little thing wasn't one of THOSE people, was she? "Excuse me, little girl, what exactly were you looking at just now?" 

The debased princess bristled with shame, angrily screaming in her head and the pit of her stomach migrating lower. Ever since she was young she had a bit of a... 'proclivity', as she thought of it herself. She didn't know why, she just knew that the particular appendage, women's to be precise, made her feel warm 'down there'. Elizabeth didn't dare direct her eyes back down, never, she couldn't expose herself as a pervert to this horrendous monster. Even with her huge, smooth, well-cared for... feet. 

Laylaia knew exactly what to do, and began to idly wiggle her toes. Just a slight twitch of her lower digits and... As she expected the miniature pervert couldn't help but take a 'stealthy' glance at her extremities. "I KNEW it, you're one of those perverts that like feet," she mused smugly. 

"I-I'm not!" Elizabeth replied.

"Oh? So the little *slut* can talk? Here I thought my newest toy was mute. Don't try and deny it, pet, I'm sure this will make things a LOT more interesting." Laylaia was ecstatic; she knew exactly what to do with her. Due to the frustrating bureaucratic process of turning a former princess into her plaything she had received her pet human a few painful days after all her friends, and from what she heard the pathetic race were weak-willed; she was sure after less than a single day the 'princess' would be obedient to the extreme. 

Laylaia wander over and sat on her oppulent four posts bed, as broad as a human building. With her slender fingers she unlaced her sandals, casting them to the side and enjoying the cool air of an Elfheim autumn on her soles. The thunder-like snap of her fingers and piercing whistle echoed around the room. "Pet, pet," she beckoned.

She was going to be sick. The elf wasn't joking, she was seriously going to treat her as a pet. She wouldn't obey, this room was huge, it would take her an embarrassingly long time to crawl over. More than that she was a princess and would refuse to respond! She stayed put.

Laylaia expected this, it was all part of her plan. "What was your name? Elspeth? Do you see that collar around your neck? That means I own you. If you run, no matter how far, you'll be returned to ME, and I'm sure whoever finds you will be given a very handsome finders fee. There's nowhere for you to go now; just be fortunate I didn't choose a brand." 

All this talk only made her feel worse, it was exactly her worst nightmares. Branding? Collars? Pet? Forgetting her bloody name? She was a princess! She used to go to operas and have musicians compose pieces for HER! This was just pure hell. For God's sake she was naked! The weight of situation began to settle in further. Her old life, her father, her NATION; it was gone... These elves had taken it. Her people were round up and sold off as pets and slaves, everything they had worked for was now just gone. And in only a month. Elizabeth began to tear up. She was sorry, this was punishment specifically for her. She was a spoiled brat! Of course she was spoiled, she was princess... she always demanded things and expected them immediately. But she was never like this! She never demanded people prostrate themselves before her feet! This was too far! Fate, or God or whoever that was punishing her had gone too far. 

Elizabeth simply bawled her eyes out.

The larger princess rolled her eyes. She should have expected tears; the idiotic thing was probably just now realising her situation. "Ugh, I don't know why you're being such a crybaby. Nothing of value has been lost really. Human culture is all so derivative of ours; all your 'music' and 'art' is so banal. You were like pests scampering for our scraps. It's the same now, just slightly more literal."

Elizabeth continued to sob. What an awful person Laylaia was, to openly mock her people. Hadn't they suffered enough?

Realising 'Elspeth' wasn't going to move, it seemed she'd need to do it herself. Stretching her legs and stomping over she cruelly tugged at the girl's calves and hoisted her into the air, holding her upside down dozens of feet from the marble ground. The human squirmed and screamed, tears running over her forehead. "Oh hush will you? It's so tiresome," she said as she left her private room and made her way through the hallways of the palace. "Just be fortunate you got me instead of being fed to one of our less intelligent pets. Although with you I'm wondering if 'less intelligent' is apt..."

---

Elizabeth cowered in the shadow of Laylaia's foot. She had just been dropped here and she kicked her monstrous soles before her with little time to recuperate. "I had hoped to do this in the privacy of my chambers, but it seems you'll need to do it out here." Elizabeth looked around, the absolutely megalithic room, large as her entire palace, was not empty. To her flanks were guards, armoured and standing at the doors, all stiff as stone and not caring of what their princess did with her pet. 

But the room was not as eye-drawing as her imposing foot... Elizabeth was a dainty, delicate little princess. She had never felt especially large, but this foot was twice her height and made her feel microscopic. The five weighty toes hung above her like the battlements of an ivory tower. Even the meaty ball of her foot wouldn't be brushed by her middle finger with an extended arm. Her pale sole was perfectly smooth except for the tender middle which was painted with slight creases and wrinkles running in wild directions. It was just purely terrifying, to think the foot of a young elf maiden was like THIS made her shudder. But, despite the alien nature of this behemoth, it seemed so familiar... as if she had seen it before.

"Would you begin?" Laylaia asked, her smug voice a patronising grunt.

Begin? What did she mean by that? Should she ask? NO! Why would she even think that? She'd refuse, of course.

"Begin you silly little thing!" the princess commanded harshly, her monolithic vocal chords projecting her booming sentence around the room. God, she was huge, Elizabeth realised again; her voice was like a crowd screaming from the opposite bank of a river, or an opera singer in a resonant room. Her body was as massive as a castle with the grace of a palace... And not to mention her formidable foot, like an immobile pillar that carried such mass; she imagined platoons of knights marching to face it only to be ground away effortlessly. Elizabeth scarcely needed to imagine it actually, she still remembered the sight of an elvish battalion on the horizon... and the stomping... running from them and hiding in her room before the ceiling...

"W-what d-do I need to d-do?" Elizabeth squeaked out, deciding she had little opportunity for resistance at the moment.

The elven princess twitched her knife-ears in impish delight, the human was coming along nicely. "Hmmm? What was that? I'm sorry, I think you'll need to speak up."

Elizabeth grimaced, clearing her throat of whatever tears she still had lodged in there as she did so. She stepped out from the pillar of her owner's foot and said, "What do I need to do?" more clearly than before.

Laylaia tilted a pale eyebrow, above her purple iris. "Oh? Sorry, I assumed being one of those foot-loving deviants it'd come naturally to you. Lick!" 

'Lick'. Elizabeth felt dizzy. Actually lick her foot? Even being a 'foot-loving deviant' she wasn't too enthused. Although... when she was young she had fantasised about doing something similar with... No! What was she thinking?! This felt like the limit of her pride, if she actually licked this elf bitch's foot she'd never live it down. If by some miracle her nation was reformed and the royal family reinstated she'd still had cried and lapped at her gigantic foot like an obedient dog. She couldn't do that.

"Pet, I'd appreciate it if you did what you were told. It really isn't so difficult, just extend your tongue and in big, long~, licks go as high as you can. You should feel honoured really, I mean, would you prefer this to no feet?"

What sort of question was that? Of course! She'd rather die than lick her disgusting, gigantic, pale... well treated... feet... She wouldn't do it! 

Laylaia was thoroughly enjoying this, even from here she could see the indecision on her face. What a desperate little thing she was. She'd need to be slightly diplomatic now, but in all honesty she was looking forward to the amount pain she could induce with a single word. "You must be so 'hungry'."

The delicate princess was snapped from her indecision by the word. 'Hungry'... she hadn't eaten for so long, and what had been forced down her gullet was stale bread. Her stomach growled in demand at the mere word. 

"You must be positively starving~, correct? I don't even know what you were being fed, it can't have been nice. If you do this one thing I'm asking of you I'll let you share my afternoon tea, which should be quite soon. Reasonable?"

Food... That did sound nice, to have a nice treat after being alone for so long. But...

"I mean really, what are you losing? You *do* like feet, hmm? You get indulge in you little fantasy, at the very least it won't be completely unpleasant, and I get a nice relaxing massage. Honestly you're being quite selfish." 

Her owner was making sense... If she could get just a taste of her torte she'd would be able to rest with a happy mouth. Elizabeth retreated back behind the foot and took a long step towards it, completely consuming her field of vision in nothing but a wrinkled, porcelain, patterned canvas of flesh. The atmosphere was mostly dry fortunately, and there was no noxious smell; her feet were soft, smooth, clean and well-prepared. In a moment of clarity she realised what she was about to do was debasing, humiliating, unladylike, foul and shameful on every level, but the thought of something tasty after stale bread on her royal palette... She inhaled the sterile air to build courage. Elizabeth opened her mouth, extended her tongue, closed her eyes, and pushed her face forward. 

Her sensitive tongue and lips could feel every detail of her skin: the wrinkles, the folds, the slight pores, the lines; everything. She shuddered and attempted to block out her senses, or at least the fact that she was so intimate with a foot... no matter how pretty of a foot that was. She had to remain thinking of the food, the taste... The skin was relatively flavourless, no strong twang of... sweat, or anything else one might expect. And Elizabeth was grateful for that indeed. With her tongue on the foot she rose up in a long streaks, leaving a glistening trail of sputum along the monolithic appendage.

To Laylaia it was just a tickle, just a dainty, small kiss on the lowest part of her body. Her foot completely blocked out the diminutive animal lapping at her soles, and she couldn't be more ecstatic. After approximately fifteen minutes she had dropped to her knees and done exactly as she asked, all for just the pleasure of a single nibble, less impressive than a dog treat. It almost made her chuckle, this thing used to be a princess? The same position as her? Utterly laughable. Yet again her prejudices were confirmed; humans were pathetic. 

But begrudging acceptance wasn't enough for Laylaia. she knew 'Elspeth', like all humans, was an animal; she would give in to her base desires when stripped of all agency, and this particular specimen's base desires seemed quite unconventional. 

Elizabeth didn't stop, she just continued at her task, waiting for the food that'd eventually be dropped before her. 

"Guard," the princess called, one diligently responding. "I would appreciate my afternoon tea now. And if Melara isn't busy tell her I'd like to show off my new toy." 

"At once, your majesty." 

Elizabeth subconsciously quickened her pace, it was coming, then she could resist a bit more and spare totally humiliation. 

On call, Countess Melara and the servant bearing tea arrived in tandem. The new, slightly taller, thicker, and darker haired elf maiden instantly noticed the puny human at her friend's feet. "Is that the princess?" she said in reverence, she wasn't aware she had arrived today.

"Former, yes. Take a seat, I'm sure she'd love a taste," Laylaia giggled. 

Melara pulled out a seat to the right of her friend at the knee-high table and watched as the diligent human slowly licked her foot. 

"Would you like a try of her?" 

"Oh no, I mustn't. I'll let you enjoy her; she's brand new and I know you've waited so long." 

Elizabeth again felt she was going to cry, she was so pathetic. They were discussing her like a piece of meat, and she was going to be forced to lick this new girl's feet too, how utter- 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a crash to her left, a silvery field of food and teacups. She turned giddy again, her stomach whinging for something. It was so close... just... 

"Pet, no, don't stop until I say, you'll get your treat," Laylaia scolded, punctuating the order with a domineering snap of fingers. She felt the tongue a moment later. "Anyway, as I was saying..." she leaned into her friend's ear to whisper, "She has a bit of a 'proclivity' for a certain body-part."

Melara's eyes again bulged. "No, really? Her?" 

Laylaia nodded to confirm, smirking the whole time. 

"Then I mustn't be mean now." She unlaced her sandals and set her feet adjacent, wiggling her black-polished toes in anticipation of the service. 

"Now pet, be a good girl and treat our guest how you would me and you'll get your much awaited treat."

The youthful elves giggled as they spotted her scurry between the aperture of their pairs of feet like a mouse. They began chatting about trivial things, sipping their tea and nibbling on sweet food as Melara received her pampering.

Elizabeth was now determined. Melara's soles were in stark contrast to her friends; they were thicker, meatier, and instead of being flawlessly smooth they were wrinkled deeply; which were like potholes that the wheels of her tongue became lodged in. The subtle taste was completely blind on her tongue after her first session so it was simply like dragging her tongue along ruffled and creased silk. 

So close, she was so close... she could practically taste the food, and if she sped up this new elf might be appreciative and give her the treat early; hopefully before her stomach gave out.

Melara was focused on far more important things than the human lapping at her feet however, like the latest fashions and whatever trivial gossip about Laylaia's court-life. She was content to receive her slight massage only vaguely. 

"Okay, pet, time for your treat," Elizabeth's owner said over an empty teacup. 

Tail wagging, Elizabeth backed away from the towering, subsuming sole; moving away from her subservience under her mobile of black toenails. She stared past the four feet and into the deep violet eyes of Laylaia, seeing a delicious pale torte in her delicate, ornately ringed fingers. Flick. A tiny morsel was flung towards her to land with a bounce. No cream, no jam, no filling, just a nibble of pastry. And that was more than enough. She threw herself down and bit into it, not bothering to savour it. She was enraptured to finally have food befitting a princess. Both the giants giggled at her overreaction; if she was the kind of person that could stomach licking feet for nigh on an hour a single crumb of food must be heavenly. 

"What do you say pet?" 

"Mfank yough," she said with a full mouth.

"Good, good. Now..." She searched around the room, who to pick, who to pick... Ah, she'll do nicely. "Pharcille, come here please," the elf princess called to one of the guards. The armour-clad woman stepped forward to the centre of the room, the room which she had been lazily surveying over as the princess had her toes tickled by her newest toy.

"Yes, your majesty?" 

"Is this your first shift for the day?" 

"No, your majesty, this is my third." 

"*Three shifts*? You poor dear! How about a nice massage to make you feel better?" Laylaia smirked. 

Elizabeth looked up from her half-eaten crumb in fear. Pharcille... she was not delicate by any stretch of the word. Her hair was the same ghostly white as Laylaia, but that is where the similarities ended. Her body was toned, even through the, rather revealing, armour she wore; her tanned, light-chocolate browned skin ripped with defined muscles. Her face was smooth and athletic, and almost jovial, not like the smug and haughty Laylaia; and the fact she must have been the equivalent of a foot or so taller was disconcerting. 

"Do you mean from the human?"

"Of course." 

The knight shifted on her feet awkwardly. "I... I've been in these boots all day, standing around..." From her words it seemed she was worried for the thing's well-being; in all honesty she didn't particularly care. She was more worried about killing it and enraging the princess.

"Then your feet must be so tired! Please, sit down and take the weight off them, she will try her best." The princess smiled. This sounded like an order to Pharcille.

The larger woman nodded and made her way to the opposite side of the table, where she could plainly see the four soles. And to where the human was sat on her haunches. On a guard's salary she had been unable to save up enough for her own human, so this would be her first experience with the piddling race. Frankly she doubted she would be very impressed, something so weak and dainty... She collapsed into the chair and relished the lack of weight on her feet. With the help of a hand she slipped out of her boots and kicked her feet up on the table, taking a deep sigh as her ten steamy toes wiggled in the cool air.

Elizabeth shuddered at the sight. This 'Pharcille' was terrifying. So large, athletic and statuesque; it made her knees knock together. And least of all her feet; these were instead *three* times her height, and wide too. They dwarfed the delicate royal soles of pampered upper-class elves. The rich tan skin was slightly paler on her instep, wrinkly and... much to Elizabeth's horror... dripping. The skin wasn't as smooth or plump either, flatter and hardened, but swollen and flush. She could feel the moist breath of the monsters, and on that breath was the twang of sweat. 

She turned and gave a pleading expression to her owner, pouting and moistening her eyes; although that moisture was Pharcille's doing. 

"Go ahead, she's been on her feet all day. Don't be so selfish!" Laylaia scorned, frowning and pointing as if she didn't know her way to the behemoths.

Pharcille just wiggled her toes and enjoyed the seat even without the licking. She wasn't expecting to be too impressed by a *human's* tongue. 

Elizabeth edged forward on all fours. She shivered when she stepped 'in range' of her foot's reach, the point where if she dropped her foot to be horizontal she'd be caught under its mass. Blood pulsed through the giant swollen monsters, finally having room to disperse their moisture now they were free. The miasma was like fog it was so moist, both Elizabeth's and Pharcille's skin rippled with goosebumps. All the elves at the table wrinkled their nose at the smell, but the sheer stench stung the human's nose. Her feet really were so huge, Elizabeth could scarcely believe how intimidated she was. Seemingly multiple stories tall... a foot, she felt so pathetic. God, she was pathetic, she was preparing to cough down the sweat of a simple elven guard, a commoner. She was a princess! How could she do something so utterly revolting? She inhaled deeply, only to instantly realise her mistake and begin coughing. Collapsed on the floor the stench was overpowering, and the drops of sweat that continued to roll from between Pharcille's weighty wiggling digits and slither down along the bumps of her feet sickened Elizabeth greatly. No, she wouldn't do this, the feet were too much. 

She skittered back, back into the two familiar pair of feet. She turned around and gave a terrified stare at her owner. 

Laylaia could barely contain her smug sense of satisfaction; exactly how she had planned it. "Pet, are you disobeying me?" 

Elizabeth didn't move her head, trained on the ground. She had disobeyed her... she needed to choke back tears. 

Pharcille rolled her eyes. "What I expected, spoiled little human pets can't even handle an elf's foot. No wonder they've been all round up." She shoved her feet into her muggy boots and rose from her seat. "Thank you for the offer your majesty."

Melara tut-tutted and crossed her arms, and Laylaia shot Elizabeth dagger-like looks. 

"Fine, pet, you can lick our feet," the elf said with an intonation that implied she was capitulating like a mother to an angry child.  

Elizabeth nodded in thanks and extended her tongue, resuming the lapping. These clean, well-treated, polished feet were far and away better than those dirty monsters... Elizabeth was grateful at least that her mistresses' feet were clean.

Laylia bristled inside. This air-headed little thing had no clue how easily she was being wrapped around her finger, or toe rather. Already she was *grateful* for being a foot-licking slave. All she needed now was a little more time and she could thoroughly break her mind. She was brimming with excitement, just how broken would she be? 

Laylaia and Melara crossed their feet and directed them onto Elizabeth, partially sealing her between them and presenting a canvas of their saliva-covered flesh to the tiny creature. At this point most of their soles were thoroughly tongue-bathed, the thin smears of the former princess' spit evaporating quickly. This meant the giantesses became pushier for her to begin treating the untouched parts of their feet. They angled their appendages to be in reach of her, and would glance at the pathetic display with delight. The paltry human needed to stand on her toes to reach the balls of their feet, forcing her face into the thick meaty orbs to properly serve them. 

Elizabeth was so tired, it had been hours of foot-licking and it seemed her mistress and her friend were dedicated to overwhelm her with the particular part. At least it was feet, she supposed, and not... She shook the thought from her mind. She hated this bitch's feet!...

"Good afternoon your majesty~" The three women turned to see whoever had just bounced into the room; unnecessary for the couple, they very much recognised the voice. 

"Tilde! Have you come to join us?" Laylaia asked to the very slightly older woman; the court physician and a close friend. 

Tilde bent over slightly, to look down the length of the table. "Oh? I didn't realise this was an occasion. I see it's finally arrived!"

Elizabeth being called 'it' was just another blow to her ego. 

"Yes, and we've been giving her an introductory course to her new life," Melara interrupted.

"Oh, what fun." The physician strutted over crouched down at the opposite side of the table, where Pharcille had been sitting, and rested her chin. 

The gigantic face ahead of Elizabeth was a misleadingly disarming one; she had bright orange hair, with several tones throughout like a fire, and eyes a particularly inhuman shade of green, similar to what one would expect of a vibrant plant. Her freckles were the breadth of teacups and they ran from her wide button nose all the way to her long ears; twitching in delight. Had Elizabeth been of a similar height to her, she was sure her soft, almost maternal, features and cute smile would have attracted her, but with her new perspective it seemed so horribly mocking and condescending. 

"Ooh what a cutie," the gigantic ginger cooed, puckering her lips as if to kiss the tiny girl. As she continued to mock her with evil expressions her eyebrow rose as if she had just found a daring piece of gossip. "Oh?" Before Elizabeth could react a thick, segmented 'little' finger was approaching her, and the wide, meaty tip collected into her thighs. She staggered back, running into the velvety wall of Laylaia's foot. The foot just provided a base for the finger to better assault her, and easily spread her legs to provide access to her private parts. 

She almost choked on the humiliation, a princess being forced against a FOOT and being molested by a little finger. Her face was bright red by the time it had stopped poking her, and she collapsed in the shadow of the closest thing to something familiar: a foot. 

"What was *that* Tilde?" Laylaia questioned, wiggling her toes after her pet tickled her so. 

The physician slipped her pinkie into her mouth and tasted it. "Look between her thighs, that isn't sweat."

The greater princess spread her feet and looked at the flushed toy, crouched over in mortification. Barely noticeable due to her puny size, the inner side of her supple thighs were very slightly shimmering, some small amount of condensation gathered. 

"No..." Laylaia muttered over a smile. So soon? So very soon? Her smile continued to grow exponentially, it really was too perfect. The human princess, reduced to a foot-licking whore. 

Melara was also grinning, her friend had told the truth. "You weren't lying Laylaia," Melara began snickering. All three elves began giggling among themselves. 

Elizabeth didn't know it was possible to loathe oneself so much, she was almost in physical pain. She had really... moistened up down there... The thought left her panic stricken, empty deep in her stomach from how far she had fallen. And to worsen this the 'people' that had put her in this hell were laughing at her, rubbing her face into the dirt. At the perimeter of the room she saw a tall, tanned, white haired elf snicker to herself; Pharcille, a commoner, was laughing at her. Elizabeth was tearing up, fat streams dripping down her face. Crying from teasing, even more humiliating.

"Aww, poor thing. Here, if it makes you feel better you can resume your licking," her owner beamed with words thick with smug condescension. "Take a seat and enjoy her Tilde, thank you for bringing this to our attention."

The voluptuous woman obeyed and took a seat, kicking off her flat shoes to free her feet, nails painted a bright red.

Three pairs of feet, six in total, thirty toes. They loomed over her absolutely pathetic form like horrible monsters. The canvas of flesh was so richly detailed with their intricate swirling patterns, plump wrinkles, dotted pores, and fine creases. Their shadows engulfed her so she couldn't even see their faces, their perfect elven faces; more beautiful, more graceful, more dignified and far, far greater than hers. She felt so utterly inadequate before their mere feet, like she wasn't even worthy of this, that she was such a pathetic waste of life that she didn't deserve the privilege of licking the lowest parts of their body. Tears continued to pour down her face, humiliation weighing on her lungs. How could she have possibly been aroused by this? To be so humiliated and to do something so foul and unbecoming yet make her loosen up down below. And without even realising it; was this who she really was? Did she really like feet... why? And her owner, her owner's feet still looked so familiar, she had seen the before... Where? It was driving her mad.

A cruel snap of the fingers and a wiggle of the Laylaia's toes, positioned in the centre, drew her away from her self-loathing and defeatist thoughts. "Come on, pet, get licking." The pale foot angled down, her perfectly shaped big toe pointing directly at her. She spread her digits easily and presented the supple gap between to her possession, inviting her in. 

The snivelling, debased, sobbing creature of a former princess slowly came closer, her crying choked by her collar. Her body rippled with goosebumps as her tiny head was positioned between the two monsters. It was so close, the tiny plump wrinkles of her toe gap were visible in detail, all the tiny lines and marks the monstrous princess had never even bothered to notice. She couldn't, could she? She couldn't lick it, this would mark the final loss of whatever tiniest scrap of dignity could be found deep inside her soul. This... this... She felt pressure on her face, the toes locking her in place. Her collar! The sign she was owned being squeezed, strangling her. She was being strangled by two toes! Elizabeth realised, again, how pathetic she was. She continued to cry over being choked... This was hell...

Elizabeth realised why these feet were familiar. 

---

As a young girl Elizabeth would spend much of her time in the courtyard. Specifically around the centre, which is where the statues could be found; statues of human heroes and the dark monsters they had vanquished. One particular statue was her favourite; Merriam IV, an ancient warrior-queen from many centuries ago. The stature of Merriam stood tall, taller than all others in the garden. Of course, she was the most exalted of all monarchs, she needed the grandest statue. As a girl Elizabeth absolutely idolised this slab of stone, this piece of rock. She could sense the respect Merriam commanded even all these decades later, how her huge, mighty statue towered over her. 

And this particular rendition of the ancient queen happened to be barefoot. 

That is likely where Elizabeth's obsession stemmed from, the countless hours gazing at her feet, which happened to be eye-level.

Elizabeth now related that first, carnal desire for that exalted dead queen and her feet to a living princess, except now she was awed even more; she was an elf, and therefore naturally greater than any human.

Elizabeth struggled past the constricting toes and slammed her mouth into the wrinkly gap and began to tongue it. In that moment she dropped all pretences of being a princess, or even a human; humans were just animals that accidentally came to emulate their betters: elves. She resigned herself to her natural urges, she'd do whatever to simply indulge in her deviant 'proclivities'. Elizabeth continued to submissively lap at the gap between her owner's toes. 

Laylaia picked up on her sudden change, the glassy expression in her eyes. She knew had successfully broken her. She had turned her from a humiliated princess that was angered at her circumstances to an obedient *slut* that derived pleasure from licking her feet. And over the course of a single afternoon. Just to test she jolted her foot forward, knocking her flat on her backside. The human instantly jumped back up and locked her lips to where she had been sucking moments ago, all without breaking stride. 

"Oh my word did she finally give in?" Melara wondered. It was incredible how she suddenly increased in intensity. Licking her toes all over.

"I think she has," Elizabeth smirked. She was very proud of her training skills.

As the afternoon went on they pushed her to see how far she'd go, to find if there was a further limit she wouldn't broach, but no. She licked every inch of their feet, begging to do so when urged. She even openly pleasured herself at their orders. All the while the gaggle of mighty elven girls heckled her and called her the most degrading names possible. She was utterly and completely devoid of pride, and Laylaia would very much enjoy her newest toy. 

By bedtime Laylaia's pet lay panting on the bedroom floor, used up to the fullest extent, unable to comply with basic commands. On the freezing ground, discarded like a toy, she'd be forced to sleep. All the while her owner enjoyed the infinitely more comfortable bed. "Mmmh, goodnight pet," Laylaia wished insincerely, she honestly didn't care. "I think I'll call an artist tomorrow, I'd like to immortalise 'The Breaking In of the Human Princess'. I wonder how your father will like it? I hear he's still unbroken." 

That night, both princesses slept soundly.