Garrick and Martin trudged through the roadless woods, crinkling through the bushes and tree saplings. As cumbersome as it was, especially with their laden rucksacks, there weren’t many alternatives when one was headed for Eron, the massive peninsula jutting out of the continent of Gharn, uninhabited by humans. As infamous as it was for its dangers, it was abundant with precious natural resources, not a stranger to the brave scavengers who made the lucrative ventures therein. And among them Garrick and Martin would be.

Garrick and Martin were mages, both twenty-two years of age, on the younger end of those who scavenged Eron. It would be their first expedition. Garrick had his brown hair tied into a tiny bun behind him, a tall and gangly stature, while Martin was shorter with a round face and close-cropped hair. They both wore brown jackets and breeches with ankle-high leather boots, striking a balance between durable and agile.

“Imagine a good, first score,” Garrick said, a small clearing allowing his attention to drift to the skies. “A pound of glowshrooms is worth three horses, you know, and glowshrooms are the easier pickings in Eron.”

“I know.” Martin held out a cautionary palm. “Though I’d like not to think about it yet. It’s dangerous. The forest of the giant pixies is first at the southeastern border, and they saw that whenever a scavenger gets picked by the pixies, they’re never seen again.”

“Alright, buddy, we don’t need the horror stories.”

“Not sure if it’s a horror.” Martin wore a smug smile as he lumbered onwards. “Pixies don’t kill you, they just enslave you. Lovely, winged, and large naked ladies enslaving you, that’s a dream to some.”

Garrick looked at him askance. “And does this ‘some’ include you? I fear you’ll go and cast yourself into their arms, when we’re supposed to sneak through.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m joking.” Near a mountain range, the ground was rarely level, and again the larch trees dipped down with a slope. About fifty feet down, they saw the ledge of a basin, and to the waterfront they went.

A vast bank of grass spread before the water, prickled with weeds and dandelions. A large waterfall crashed into the basin, pouring down the mountain which, within the woods, had been shrouded by the packed larch trees. A shoulder of the mountain stretched in around the basin, cupping the body of water, and behind it a valley cut through the cliffs and into the mountains. Near the shoulder of stone they settled, sparing their necks and backs from the rucksacks. They ate a lunch of hoecakes and a handful of walnuts, washing it down with a few gulps of cherry cordial.

Garrick patted the increasing emptiness of their rucksacks. “Imagine these being filled with crystal flowers and glowshrooms on the way back.”

Martin shook his head. “Save the celebrations for when we’ve got something in our hands. The way we’re loitering about here, that’ll never work in Eron. In fact, we should be focused right now. Before we left Drelten, I caught some rumors at the local inn of humans disappearing around these mountains.”

“They probably headed into Eron, where the dangers are known, and didn’t return.”

Martin shrugged. “They weren’t scavengers, just ordinary people.”

“You’re in love with your creepy tales, aren’t you? Try focusing on not daydreaming about pixies instead.” Garrick picked up his rucksack and informed his friend of an area with shallower water ahead, where he’d seen fresh watercress. Garrick went to pick some, bringing his rucksack with him.

There, a shallow pool stretched out like a wobbly finger from the basin, and underneath it the fresh greens grew. As Garrick picked the watercress, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander again. He and Martin came from families that were farmers, barely making it through the years. Garrick’s father had once told him that a man’s job is to provide, and provide he would. Their families always wanted them to work in the farms, their dabbles in the arcane never appreciated. Though now they’d use their perceived-to-be useless competence to forage Eron, sell those valuable herbs, and surprise their families. Garrick imagined the smile on his mother’s face; she deserved it for all she’d given him and the little he’d returned.

Garrick had collected a hefty bundle of watercress he was satisfied with. It would serve as a decent snack. He made his way back.

Just as he rounded a cluster of goldenrod bushes, for the first split second Garrick believed he’d underestimated how large and imposing the protruding arm of the mountain was. The next second, he saw the enormity for what it was.

A giant.

Eighty foot tall, she wore a blue-gray robe reaching only the middle of her thighs. She had a large frame, with a voluminous bosom, meaty thighs, and toned calves. Her hair was a light brown, reaching her shoulder blades with the frizzled look of having just woken up from bed. The lady had full lips, rich brown eyes, and a pronounced jaw, certainly towards the mature end but not having crested the middle-ages yet. Late thirties, Garrick surmised.

The lady was on her tiptoes, rounding the shoulder of the mountain. At first Garrick wondered if she was shy or overly respectful, not wishing to disturb Martin in his intense map-reading session by the bank. Though it was peculiar how she raised her arms to evade the larch trees, her large, shapely feet not allowing those deep arches and heels to touch the ground as only the lanky toes and meaty balls padded the soil quietly. It was also peculiar how her sneaky advance made straight for Martin, the eager eyes locked on him, the tip of her tongue poking out between the lips in a mixture of focus and excitement. The lead-up had the feel of someone sneaking up on a friend for a surprise. But she was no friend. She was a stranger, and a large stranger at that. Despite his suspicion, Garrick couldn’t find the moment where he was adamant on acting. Once he knew something was wrong, it felt like it happened too fast.

The shadow of her left foot fell over Martin.

“Huh?” He turned up to see the richly wrinkled arch descend upon him. Unlike her previous footsteps, this one lacked all the harmless stealth, letting the whole left sole slam down upon him. A tremor took the ground, the basin rippling, a few loose pebbles tumbling down the mountain and splashing into the water. Her large, meaty foot had practically swallowed Martin up, meeting no resistance. The giant stood on that one left leg, not putting the other foot down, drilling her weight onto Martin through the pillar of pale, ample flesh. Those round toes wriggled buoyantly, satisfied with their meal.

The lady clamped her hands together and brought them over her collarbone, looking down like a girl would dote over a puppy. “I’ve got another one.” She rubbed her hands together and closed her eyes, whispering gratitude with a blissful smile. “Mommy’s got another slave.”

Another one? Slave? An impulse made Garrick twitch, about to step out from the bush, to act, to save his friend. But he took in the sight before him, the shapely foot which had promptly flattened his friend, the muscular, groping toes, the meaty calf and thigh, the entire eighty-foot colossus before him, and he wondered what would prevent him from ending up like his friend. Still standing on the left foot, the right one came and stroked its counterpart, commending it for its catch, or perhaps jealous, wishing it too could taste a human of its own. No matter how mannered and reasonable Garrick would present himself, he couldn’t put any trust in her reciprocating any of it. Garrick knew that in the case of a confrontation, the risk of finding himself underneath the other foot was high.

“Fuck,” he muttered. His inability to do anything was nothing short of a disgrace, the words of his mother echoing in his head.

“How lucky can a girl get?” the lady said, her voice deep with a mature richness. “A cute young man sits out here all alone, like a rabbit waiting outside the fox’s den. It must be fate. He might turn out to be the best slave yet.” She teetered from standing on one foot, planting the toes of her other one on the bank enough to gain balance, but not enough to lighten the load on Martin. There was time for Garrick to act, to snap out of the spell of indecisiveness he found himself in. But he stood as rooted to this spot as the giant’s strong foot was on his friend. Garrick couldn’t imagine what he’d accomplish by confronting her.

At last, she put her weight on the right foot and kicked the left one back, revealing Martin, helplessly plastered to the cushy sole. The foot had gathered a sparse spread of dirt and splinters of bark and twigs and grass, especially around the ball and heel and the bulbous underside of her toes. The arch displayed her pale, creamy flesh in its purest form, and with his shoulders and head against her ball, the rest of Martin’s body stretched down across the arch. From toe to heel, the foot was slightly over twice his length, comfortably covering him up.

With a playful couple of toe-flexes, she made him dance, Martin the puppet and her digits the puppeteer holding the strings. She chuckled briefly, biting her lower lip, one hand slipping in under the neckline of her robe and groping her breast. As if someone there castigated her, she came to and slapped herself lightly on the cheek. “Heavens, Liza, contain yourself.”

So her name was Liza, Garrick noted, and a surge of purpose welled up within him, giving meaning to his inaction. He’d report this to the giant guards; that would be his role.

Liza reached with her hand and pinched Martin’s shoe. As if her foot was the banana and Martin the skin, she peeled him off, Martin’s body parting from the sole with the deep crackle of ripping wallpaper. Martin hung from her hand in a daze, muttering something incomprehensible.

Liza brought him up to her face to observe him. “Young men are the best additions. I can’t have asked for any better.”

Martin came to with sudden attention, noticing his predicament. Liza’s other hand closed around his torso. One of his arms were free, and he threw it inattentively, a bolt of green magic discharging from his hand and soaring right past her ear.

Liza’s head snapped back with a gasp. “A mage.” Her other hand rushed forward to close over him, folding his other arm inside. “Let’s get those arms in check. Mages are more resilient, but I’ll work you into shape. You’ll be just like all the other slaves, in the end.” Adjusting to have both his arms closed in one hand, Liza untied and parted her robe. She wore nothing underneath, and Garrick watched in shock as she brought her hand down and aimed Martin’s head at those large, pink lips.

“Garrick!” Martin shouted with a surge of panicked life, staring down the mouth of those hungry lips. “Don’t come back! Get away from here!”

“He’s got fight in him.” Liza’s expression was glowing with excitement. “They always do in the beginning.” She used his head to prod her lips apart, and with a humble little nudge inserted him to the shoulders. Fingers on his ankles, Liza thrust Martin straight inside, and from a tense neck to clenched toes, the jolt of electric pleasure cut through her entire being. “Ah. I’m addicted to this,” Liza whispered, beginning a gentle rhythm as she pulled him in and out. But she cancelled it quickly with an impersonal insertion. “No, Liza. Get a grip, not here.” She watched the surroundings with a newfound attention, a sweep of her gaze which might have caught Garrick if he had emerged from his bush too boldly. “He called for another one, a Garrick. Perhaps his companion.”

Hearing his name from her mouth was like a spotlight cast straight upon him, removing the goldenrod bush and his clothes, and for that second he may as well have laid naked under her gaze. Garrick cooled down; his backpack and the bundle of watercress was with him, and as Liza observed the waterside, he recognized there were no signs of him left for her to find.

“Back home it is.” Liza patted her nethers through the robe. “With slave number six.” Liza punted Martin’s backpack into the basin. Then she turned and rounded the arm of the ridge she’d come from, heading into the valley cutting through the mountains. The thud of her steps along the hurricane of whisking leaves as the trees were shoved aside, it abated, until there was quiet.

Garrick had to report this to the guards. The disappearances were well-known. Though he feared the errand would get washed away, as it currently was. Something in Garrick’s gut didn’t sit right, to see his friend be kidnapped before him and turn the other way. Garrick picked up his rucksack and followed.

Liza’s footprints were pronounced through the bank and forest bed of the valley, a good trail to pursue. Garrick didn’t expect to overcome her and rescue his friend in a glorious blaze of heroism. There was no confrontation in mind. He merely hoped to find her home, wherever she kept herself and this nasty business, and return to the guards with a splendid report detailing the culprit’s appearance, name, and whereabouts.

Garrick jogged, not activating his magics but not wishing to trail too far behind either. “Slave,” he muttered. At first he’d been confused. The word slave invited visions of enforced labor, that she’d kidnapped humans and made them work. Though that never made sense, as one giant would make better labor than hundreds of humans. Only mages would make sense, and she hadn’t known Martin was a mage until after she’d ambushed him. The answer lay in her lewd behavior. It gave the word slave its meaning in this context. She was a horny psychopath.

Garrick kept his attention sharp, envisioning the map in his head and preventing it from going foggy constant updates with every turn and course he took down the valley, guided by her footprints. He arrived at a portion where the two mountains bridged the valley overhead, like a chunky stone arch above the valley. After coming out of its shadow, the prints on the ground suddenly disappeared.

Garrick felt the presence behind him, her shadow growing over him, and as he stared up and saw her excited face and the large sole flying down to meet him, the thoughts raced through his head, how she’d taken cover behind the mountainous arch of rock, snuck up behind him the way she’d snuck up on Martin, how there hopefully was another observer to witness this, who hopefully wouldn’t be dumb enough to repeat Garrick’s mistake.

Hopefully, something would break the cycle, as Garrick saw the same thing Martin had by the water, the enormous foot stomping down upon him.

“Hey, are you awake?” The man who waved his fingers before Garrick’s eyes was naked, as was the other four behind him.

Garrick woke with a shudder. They were in a room, a giant-sized one. The two-hundred feet high walls made it seem like he’d found himself in the grandest of old temples, built for old kings with the dying labor of thousands. However, the rustic wooden planks, the common dresser and cupboard and plain chair and desk, they brought all the grandeur down to the reality of a common room. A window above them let in sunlight. Garrick’s wrists were tied to metal loops on the wall, their existence revealing that holding humans captive here wasn’t uncommon. Garrick pulled at his constraints, realizing there was room to move his arms. The instinct to summon magic came.

But when he reached out for his pool of energy, he couldn’t find it, as if a blanket had been put over the only light in the room and he fumbled about aimlessly.

“I already tried.” It was Martin who spoke, tied similarly beside Garrick. He jostled his constrained limb, the forearms covered in a black brace. “Hardgum.” The material was a known magic-suppressant, morphing to a shock-absorbing, gelatinous texture when exposed to moisture and humidity, and hardening to a dense, rock-like structure when allowed to dry.

“How did she get you?” The one who woke them spoke, a young man around their age. He had long hair and deep dark eyes, a relatively athletic build. And he was naked as the day he was born. So was the other four men behind them, as well as Garrick and Martin.

“We rested by a lake,” Martin said. “She snuck up on me, stomped me flat. Garrick, how did she get you? Didn’t you get my warning?”

“I wanted to see where she was going.” Garrick’s eyes trailed over the roof, still in disbelief. “Where the hell are we? What is this?”

“You’re with Mommy now.” One of the four other men spoke, and it was the deadpan look with which he said those words that confused Garrick. “It takes some time, but you’ll come around to like it. We all did, and we can’t imagine being anywhere else.”

Martin frowned. “Who are you guys?”

A blonde youth, the man put his hand on his chest. “I’m Slave One.” He pointed to the thin-haired man with an oblong face. “That’s Slave Two.” Then to the shorter, bald one beside him. “That’s Slave Three.” The fourth one was stouter and thick-built, with a rich beard. “That’s Slave Four.” Finally, he pointed to the well-built, dark-eyed one who woke them up. “And that’s Slave Five.”

Garrick noticed how Slave Five also wore hardgum braces. “You’re a mage too?” Moreover, there was a depth to the look in his eyes, a certain battle-worn weight of having seen things. The four others carried themselves with a childlike innocence.

Slave Five leaned forward and whispered to the two. “I’m Harry.”

“What’s going on here?” Garrick said. “Where the hell are we? And who the hell is that woman?”

“We’re somewhere in the Koll Mountains, close to border to Eron,” Harry said. “In the middle of them, where no one goes. The lady… you’ll have to call her Mommy.”

Garrick snorted. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“I was like that too,” Harry said. “We all were.”

Martin gave up the effort of pulling at his restraints. “What does she want? Money?”

“She wants us all to be happy,” Slave One said. “With Mommy, you will never know misery again.”

“Okay, but how what if we don’t want to be here?”

“Everyone wants to be here.”

Garrick frowned. “Listen, I know those skulls of yours are empty, but—”

The large door opened from across the room. Liza entered, closing the door after her. Martin’s gaze was studious, never having seen more than the underside of her left foot. Her brown hair was combed and smoothed out into a tidy blanket falling over her head and neck. The silken, blue-gray robe reached midway across her thigh, revealing those strong, smooth legs, a remembrance for Garrick, a sight to behold for Martin.

She smiled, walking towards them, a pulse felt in the wooden floor from the padding of her soles. The happiness on the slaves, minus Harry, was palpable. Their heads were raised and alert, their fingers fidgeting with excitement, and their open mouths trended towards an upward, smiling curve. The only thing left was for them to have tails to wag, and they’d be no different than a dog seeing the owner return home.

“Are my slaves happy to see me?”

“Yes, Mommy!”

“I’ve missed you so much, Mommy!”

“Please, never leave us again.” The four of them could hardly stand still, dripping in unified joy. Slave Five, or Harry, as he’d chosen to call himself with residues of his former self still there, snuck in with the other four. He couldn’t stick out with his dispassion.

Liza stopped about ten yards from them. “Nope.” She held out a palm, then pointed at them. “Stay.”

Like dogs receiving commands, they got on their knees, holding their positions. Liza stood on her heels, raising her feet and revealing the underside. The toes and ball of the foot were smeared with dusty dirt, marring her pale hue. She flexed her toes, making them yellow from pressure. “Do you miss them?”

“We do, Mommy!”

“I miss them the most!”

“Please let us worship them, Mommy.”

Garrick and Martin exchanged disturbed looks, wondering whether these were actual people, waiting for the moment where they would all burst out in laughter and end this farce.

That moment never came. Liza snapped her finger. “Come.” All five, with Harry trailing last, ran up to her and dove at her feet, rabidly peppering her feet with kisses like two lovers reunited after years. Slave Two and Four made their way to the inner side of her feet with a trail of kisses while the other three were at her toes, One and Five on her left foot and Three at her right. “No tongue, and hands off your dicks.”

“Yes, Mommy.” They were riddling her feet with their prickling kisses, Liza having to restrain her joy and keep her feet still to leave them undisturbed at their task. Then she threw a taunting smirk at Garrick and Martin.

“Don’t look so daunted, my boys,” she said, the alluring voice befitting a fox from the stories. “They were once like you, and then I trained them. You will be no different. So remove the fight in you, the reluctance, and simply take it in. Take it in and learn.”

“We don’t want this,” Martin hollered. “They clearly do. That’s the difference.”

“Did you not hear me?” Liza snapped her fingers. All five of them ceased their kissing and stepped back from her feet, awaiting the next command. Slow and theatrical, Liza raised one foot and took a stride forward, followed by another one. She stood right before the wall, bringing that row of ten globular toes within spitting distance of Garrick and Martin. The sun blaring at her through the window, she drew the curtains, her towering greatness demanding they bend their necks fully just to find her eyes.

She snapped her fingers once again and pointed at her feet, and all five slaves followed from where she’d left them, from where they’d obediently remained. They were puppets operated by her will, even Slave Five who’d introduced himself using his name, who was a mage, who showed hints that a modicum of self-respect remained, was among them. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t thrown out the most obsessive comments, perhaps lacking in the slavish vigor the other four displayed. What mattered was that he obeyed all her commands, that he too pathetically ran with the rest of them and got on his knees between her feet.

“Do you see how good my slaves are?” Liza stood astride them, those two gargantuan feet and their lanky toes standing with an almost protective poise, sheltering its subjects. “They were like you. And you will be like them.” Her toes scraped the wooden floor with one distinguished flex. Liza picked at the loop by her waist and untied her robe, about to undress. “Now, slaves. Let’s show our two new members just how much fun we have around here.”

Liza pulled the robe off her, bundled it, and tossed the ball of cloth. The back of the chair by the desk caught it as it unfurled midair. Hands on her hips, she stood with her nakedness proudly on display. As if being eighty-foot-tall wasn’t enough, Liza was massive even for her proportions. Had she been human, she’d be taller than any of the men there and require the biggest shoes. Her enormous feet and her frame had always suggested it, though now with the robe gone, there was no mistaking those strong, weighty thighs as they widened up to meet her hips. Liza had neither an hourglass figure nor was she fat, a defined line to her sizable bulk, her abdomen flat and those gigantic breasts protruding well forward.

Garrick just noticed his gaping mouth, in sheer awe of the sight before him. One of her calves contained more muscle than the combined mass of all the seven men present, a monument of flesh. And the bulk was not alone; it was joined by a feminine refinement. She was a goddess.

Garrick and Martin noticed their transfixion and broke free. Their awe was feeding her ego.

“Slaves,” Liza said, the brief delivery of a command. She flexed her toes to give an indication. “Continue.”

“Yes, Mommy!” All five returned to their position, kissing her toes and feet. That they were now in spitting distance of Garrick and Martin gave the desired effect, the two of them able to see the way her soft foot flesh caved in to the slaves’ faces, hearing the smooches, their piggish groans of pleasure. The detail that robbed the scene of all its potentially theatrical character was the fact that all five slaves had an erect manhood, an authenticity which left no room for doubt in Garrick and Martin’s minds. And when they understood the sincerity of the slaves’ affection for her feet, even Slave Five who seemed to hold onto some pride, who had to wear braces of hardgum to repress his magic, the conclusion it led to made them see the true predicament before them. Either all five of them happened to enjoy feet and humiliation, which seemed improbable, or Liza indeed had some bulletproof procedure to turn them into the groveling excuses for men they now were. A procedure she would likely employ on Garrick and Martin. They feared the future where another pair of captives would be in their place, and Garrick and Martin would be number six and seven, debasing themselves.

“Tongue.” That was all she said, yet it was as if she’d opened a pressure valve. All five slobbered away at her feet, the soundscape now enrichened by the sticky stroke of their tongues and the dog-like grunts coming out of their open mouths. Garrick and Martin kept trying to make eye contact with one of them, offer them their grimace and see if they would surface from the degeneracy they’d collapsed under. But the slaves were absorbed, not sparing a hundredth of their attention to anything other than the task at hand. Slave One was diligently lapping away at her second toe. Like a wet broom his tongue swiped stretches of her yellow-pale flesh back into existence, which had been hiding underneath the layer of dusty dirt she’d gathered outside. He would even double back with his licks, finding the little islands of dirt he’d missed and suck them clean. These men were beyond rescue. Garrick looked up, finding her smirk. She knew the nature of his thoughts, the hope he tried to cling onto, the hope he tried to spread to the rest, recruit them to normal and away from wherever they’d descended. And she knew how he realized the hopelessness of it.

Slave Two was worshipping her big toe nearest Garrick, and without a word spoken, the big toe rose, and Slave Two got underneath it like one would get on their back and repair the underside of a wagon. He bit the nub of her toe and Garrick could see the muscles working around his throat and neck, the caving in of his cheeks as he sucked. It was the intense intimacy one reserved for their significant other, which he’d chosen to squander on the nub of a big toe.

“Tell Mommy how much you love her feet,” Liza said.

“We love Mommy’s feet!”

“They’re the most delicious thing that’s ever graced this world!”

“They’re cuddly, soft, and kind, like Mommy! We would kiss them all day if Mommy let us.”

The impact of their adoration could be visibly seen, Liza closing her eyes with a deep exhale, her fingers entering her pussy. “Oh, Mommy does let you kiss them all day. Mommy gives you as much feet as you want.” A drop of cum broke free from her swollen, pink-brown lips, splashing right underneath her. “Slave Five, you noticed it. Clean it up.”

“Yes, Mommy.” His words, the one named Harry, carried an effort to be produced. Garrick and Martin could sense it, while for the rest it came naturally. There was something of him left inside, which made it doubly disappointing to see him obey all her commands, to see him get down and slurp up the droplets of cum upon the wooden floor.

Liza gave her most vocal moan yet. “Mommy can’t hold it in any longer.” She squatted, her knees almost touching the wall. She allowed her bottom to fall back, keeping her feet near the wall, Garrick, and Martin. “Slave Three, Four, and Five.” Liza beckoned towards her. They jogged down the avenue between her legs. Slave Five and Four were taken by her hands. Liza leaned back onto her elbows, placing them on her breast, and the immediacy with which they latched on and sucked away at her nipple revealed a routine character to the ordeal. Furthermore, Slave One and Two by the feet had clambered up a sole each. They hung sideways, their legs wrapped around her fourth digit and their arms wrapped around the first one, their torso grasped under the pronounced curvature of her third and second toes. And in that position, without any communication, they commenced worshipping the underside of her rotund big toe, just as Slave Four and Five were on her nipples, and Liza picked up Slave Three and shoved him straight into her pussy.

It started with a sharp shriek from her, steadying into a more consistent moan as she masturbated with Slave Three. Garrick and Martin refused to believe he truly was enjoying this, this one-sided affair where he was reduced to nothing more than a pleasure-stick. Swirling him about, a few exceptional deep plunges, she mixed it up somewhat, though always returned to the reliable pumping rhythm. Threads of cum oozed down the gaping, pink-brown mouth which was devouring Slave Three.

“Oh god…” Liza groaned. “Uuuuuuuuuuuuh.” Her heels, ass, shoulder blades, and back of the head were the anchors to the ground, but the zaps of pleasure would take her with such force that sometimes her ass would jump up, the lower portion of her shoulder blades leaving the floor. All four other slaves handled the turbulence well. Slave One and Two were helped by her clenching toes holding them in place, their mission to worship that big toe and eliminate all dirt from it uninterrupted. Slave Four and Five on her breasts held on with their arms and legs like the groping contraction of a four-fingered hand, kissing, licking, and sucking on her nipples, fighting to fit as much of it in them as they could. They looked like leeches.

“Brother…” Martin looked at Garrick with a somberness that was on the brink of laughter. “Where have we ended up?” The scene of utter debauchery before them made their hopelessness even clearer. They weren’t captured by an institution, a royal house, town guards, or the like. They had been kidnapped by a deranged nymphomaniac, out in the mountains, and they were at her complete mercy.

“Fuck.” Liza’s words steamed out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” She terrorized her own pussy with Slave Three’s body, and with a howl portending what was to come, a jet of squirt shot out. The tip of it drizzled right on the wall between Garrick and Martin, the splashes hitting them plentily. They flinched and turned away from it as much as their restraints allowed. Though there was no hiding from it. They were in the line of fire, and they saw Liza’s wide eyes fixed on them, motivated.

“Keep licking, you worthless little shits,” she yelled. “I need more. I need— Oh, lord above. LORD ABOVE.” She shot at them again, this time able to sustain the spray of liquid enough to let it drill into the wall between them. With a slight turn of her pelvis, she aimed, and Garrick wasn’t receiving any mere splashes anymore. The squirt bore straight into him, as if he’d been placed before a broken pipeline. He exclaimed, a mistake, for his open mouth allowed it to enter. The exposure lasted for a couple of seconds, though that was enough to leave him drenched, coughing her liquid out. It dripped from his nose, eyelashes, strands of his long hair, chin, converging at every tip of his body.

Liza paused for a couple of seconds, preparing herself with a couple of deep breaths. Turning her neck down, her exhausted face peered between her bosom. She clenched her teeth, a sudden frustration amidst the pleasure. “You think you’re better than us? Looking at my slaves with those judgmental eyes, looking down on us, like you’re any better.” Her eyes went to Garrick. “And now you’re soaked in my juice. You’re no better. You’re one of them.” Then she was back at it, Slave Three having no say in the matter as she used him further. With her other hand, she rubbed her clit, working herself back up to a third orgasm. “There’s nothing left but to submit to your new Mommy!”

The four slaves’ sucky kisses were ongoing. Liza’s back arched, her bottom and shoulder blades leaving the floor as the pleasure controlled her. With a sharp yelp transitioning into a howl, another blast of squirt came. This time, it wasn’t aimed well, stray drizzles hitting them both as most of it struck the wall. Though Liza tried to retain heat of the moment instead of advancing it. Paying no mind to the two slaves latched onto her toes and the other on her breast, Liza put her feet flat on the floor before Garrick and Martin and brought her hulking mass over, hunching down before the two. Slave Four and Five did their best to hold onto her chunky breasts, a tougher fight now that gravity pulled them away from her nipples rather than into them. Two and One were flattened underneath the standing toes, squeezed into the pools of cum. Hunched over like one would when taking a shit outdoors, Liza pulled Slave Three in and out harder than ever before, holding onto the windowsill above her.

“You. Are. My. New. Slaves.” One last orgasm. Her pussy released an explosive gush, a deluge accurately finding Martin and hitting his head so forcefully, the muscles in his neck couldn’t outcompete the power, his head pinned against the wall.

Her liquids served a very efficient function. The blast of cum washed away all their notions of a normal, civilian condition, a ceremonious shower initiating them into their new status. It was the holy water driving away the demons of their previous lives, a trial so wild it shattered Garrick and Martin’s notions of what was normal, leaving a shell-shocked confusion behind that new routines could replace, the routines of being her slaves.

Liza put her hand against the wall for support, her brown hair frizzled, eyes half-open. Three quarters of Slave Three’s body had been left hanging out of the wide mouth of her pussy, and with all her wetness, he slipped out easily. He splashed on the cum like a ragdoll dropped, breathing as if he’d just finished a long sprint.

“D— Did I do good, Mommy?” he whispered with a shudder.

Liza didn’t respond. She pried Slave Four and Five off her teats to let them drop beside Three, then adjusted her feet wider apart, leaving One and Two where her toes had previously stood. Liza sat, landing on the cum with a splash and burying them all underneath the endless expanse of her bubbly ass. Not much was left to make contact with Garrick and Martin, and with her legs athletically spread apart, Liza nudged her hip forward and buried the two into the fleshy walls of her inner thighs.

“Welcome to the family, Slave Six and Seven.”

Liza’s cottage sat beside a waterfall crashing into a lake. The nearest mountain peaks towered towards the skies sharply, nestling this little pocket amidst the network of valleys into the obscure location it was. Garrick hadn’t been able to see any paths either. He severely doubted help was anything he could expect. What made it worse was that him and Martin had left on their mission to scavenge Eron against the wishes of their families, for it was a perilous journey. No doubt their families would curse themselves for not having stopped them from leaving. Garrick and Martin’s absence would have such a fitting premise, fallen in Eron, considered beyond rescue when all they truly needed were for the town guards to come this way.

Garrick lay by the lakeside, a patch of grass sloping down into an avenue of water through the reeds, opening into the lake. The crash of water was distant but unending. He didn’t lie alone and undisturbed, of course. His head stuck out between the big and second toe of Liza’s right foot, his naked body swallowed up underneath the ball and arch of her sole. They were on a pink blanket she’d lay on the grass, Liza wearing a surprisingly modest teal dress reaching all the way to her shins.

“How are you enjoying your time, Slave Six?” Liza said, her chin leaning on her knee as she stared at him obsessively with those brown eyes.

“It’s a nice and cozy home you’ve found for yourself. But I’d like to be free.”

Liza giggled. “We can begin the bargaining process once you start kissing my toes.” The big toe flexed, rubbing up against the side of his head. Garrick’s arms were free, his right one out from the side of her foot and his left arm out through the gap between her third and second toe, though there was nothing his free arms could do. Not with the hardgum stuck to his forearms, their gelatinous texture durable beyond measure. He could only adjust his head in response to the lively toes which wouldn’t leave him alone. As opposed to before when the five faithful slaves were licking away at them, now Liza had cleaned her feet. They carried a fragrance of lemon and strawberry from her ointments, their pale cleanliness preserved as she’d walked here with the sandals which lay at the periphery of the blanket.

“I don’t know what you’re trying here,” Garrick said. “Cleaning up your feet, making them smell nice, it won’t make me suddenly want to kiss them. Is this the extent of your persuasive skills, Liza?”

He saw her flinch from the use of her name. “And where did our little slave get that name?”

“I heard you talk to yourself when you stomped Martin by the basin. I don’t know what your plan is. We’re a long way off from me calling you Mommy and licking your toes, so what’s the plan? Listen, I promise, we won’t say anything, me and Martin. Let us go and it’ll be forgotten, trust me, I genuinely see the happiness on the other five, I can accept that they might want this.”

Liza chuckled, a glance up to the skies before resting her chin back on her knee. “You’ve got character. It makes it that much more satisfying once you’re my slave.” Her big and second toe gave him a little squeeze, compressing his cheeks. “The plan is that you’re much smaller than me. You’re powerless, especially with the hardgum on. So you’ll be around here, with no other life to understand and get used to. And as you get used to this life, you’ll realize how to best optimize your enjoyment. That’s what the five slaves have done, they’ve optimized their enjoyment. Also, there’s disciplinary measures for continued disobedience. It provides a proper distinction, you can choose to enjoy yourself, or not to. I would wager my slaves life some of the happiest lives there are out there, with all the poverty, war, depravity.”

Garrick paused. “You don’t seem too stupid, a big difference to the turbulent nymph back in that room.”

Liza raised an eyebrow, her big toe giving him a scolding little tap on the head. “Why should having a bit of fun suggest anything?” Her big toe didn’t leave him, pressing down, engulfing his face with its pulpy softness. His nose was filled with the scent of her lemon and strawberry lotions, and it had the creamy texture of a baby’s leg, a mesmerizing squishiness somehow found on the end of this enormous giant. The cleanliness made a stark contrast to the dirty toes the slaves had to clean before. As her big toe rubbed him gently, Garrick able to feel the toe prints, he realized this was like an act of seduction.

“Aren’t they soft?” Liza whispered.

They were, Garrick had to concede. It wouldn’t be so bad to kiss it, to bury his face in its doughy, fragrant expanse and simply return the love they were showing him. The image of a foot and a toe was gone, it was just clean, washed flesh.

Garrick returned with a jitter, noticing the nasty thought which had snuck into his mind.

“They can be kind,” Liza said. “As long as you show them kindness. There is so much love I have available to provide you, as long as you submit.”

Garrick managed to get his head out from underneath it. “Why feet?”

“Because it’s the perfect trial, the perfect show of subservience.” Liza tilted her head, amused. “I know what lies in that question.” She guided one hand down her abdomen. “You want to get in between my legs already.” Her other hand cupped the bottom curve of her large breast. “Cut straight to the action. But that’s something you earn, you need to put in the work first. The feet are where it begins.” The big toe gently scraped down his face, the nub of her toe hooking onto his lips to try and pry them open. “But I understand it’ll take some time.”

He noticed her shift, feeling the air seep in through his lower legs as her foot arched up. The ball and toes remained on him. She reached down with her hand, Garrick thinking she’d pick him up. Her index finger poked at his groin. Strangely, it sent an embarrassed shiver throughout Garrick, despite her hectic orgasms back in the cottage doing more than enough to break the ice. The precision was the ingredient which made this different, her index flicking his manhood up and pinning it against his lower abdomen. Then, she stroked it, the fingertip running up and down along the shaft.

Garrick heaved a few breaths. “What’s the plan?”

Liza merely smiled. The clumsy position she had to sit in didn’t discourage her, she kept her foot on him and the index on his manhood. The stroking was made easier as his manhood predictably hardened, giving her a more defined runway to stroke.

Garrick felt the progression, the tenseness behind his scrotum as his dick grew more and more sensitive to her touch, and partway through he realized he wasn’t merely letting the index arrive, he met the fingertip, his hips in a partnership with it. Garrick tilted his head back, mouth open from breathing.

Liza seized the chance. The big toe lunged for his head like a snake after the mouse, squishing him into its soft expanse. A chunk of toe flesh successfully found its way into his mouth, pinning him against the second toe. Garrick tried to wrench free, the muscles in his neck unable to rival her toe. They had him locked, the big toe crushing him further, jamming as much of the pulpy flesh into his mouth. He tasted the balmy strawberry, a complete absence of an acrid sweaty stench one might expect from feet. Having her toe in his mouth didn’t kill his drive, his dick remained stiff, responsive to her touch.

Readjusting his tongue for comfort made him inadvertently lick the toe flesh, the intricate sensory map of his tongue able to feel the swirly prints. His free arms wrapped around her big and second toe for stability, for some sense of cooperation in this one-sided affair. The orgasm approached, his increased huffs and the crack of a moan giving it away.

Her index finger left him, and the sudden void rushing in to replace the pleasure of her strokes was like a knife in the heart. Only then did he notice how much he was thrusting his hips, crinkling the blanket under him as his desperate thrusts hoped the air would give enough friction.

But resistance arrived. Liza put her foot back down. There were no thoughts to this behavior, what Garrick experienced was like being the wheels of a wagon which had been pushed, helplessly rolling on without a say in the matter. And here he figuratively rolled on as he humped his manhood right into her arch, bursting out his seed. Her toes clamped him harder, overwhelming his sense of sight, smell, and taste with her big toe, cramming as much of them into the moment as was possible.

The thrusts ended, the sticky contact between his belly and her foot laying bare the reality of how he’d humped his seed into her sole with his mouth full of toe. His cheeks bulged out from the abundance, threads of his drool spreading over the toe’s bottom.

“Did you like that? It doesn’t have to end, ever. You can do this all day with Mommy.”

Post orgasm, Garrick didn’t reject everything, he didn’t suddenly flail and fight about. He felt drowsy, and much like a pacifier for a baby, the chewy texture of her toe was hypnotic. Eyes closing, he absent-mindedly sucked and chewed away on it, feeling a therapeutic effect.

“There, there,” Liza cooed, like a mother. If the Garrick from ten minutes ago had seen himself now, he’d be revolted. His progression towards becoming a slave happened one step at a time, though the steps could be far less than Garrick had expected.

The door to Liza’s room opened. Her quarters reminded them all how she wasn’t particularly wealthy. The bed was simple and against the corner of the room, a plain pillow and dull, yellow sheet. Beside the head of the bed was a night table, at the foot it a dresser. Against the opposite wall was her wardrobe flanked by two square windows. There were shelves stacked with books, hooks which were lined with curious cords, ropes for a human but threads for a giant. Some of them had a toe ring on one end and a collar fit for a human’s neck on the other.

The five slaves, six counting Martin, were on her bed, and Liza had left them with pairs of her worn panties to indulge in. They all jumped with energy, scurrying to the edge of the bed to meet her, verbally showering her with the joy filling their heart upon Mommy’s return. Everyone except Martin.

Liza put Garrick down on the bed. “I’ll be with you soon, Slaves. Mommy needs to spend some time on the two newer ones, just like she did with all of you when you were new.”

“When will Mommy be back?”

“Now, now, be patient.” Liza reached out and took Martin. She held onto the bed frame for support as she slipped her left foot out of her sandal and hovered it over the slaves. Like starving dogs, their necks extended, mouths open. Slave One literally drooled. With a coquettish giggle, Liza pulled her foot back and returned it back to her sandal. “My Slaves can wait, can’t they? Mommy has taught them well, hasn’t she?”

“Y—Yes she has.”

Liza turned around, her teal dress following with a twirl. The sandals clapped against her heels as she left, closing the door after her.

“Did Mommy teach you to like her toes?” Slave Three asked Garrick.

Garrick scowled, the titillations in his groin still lingering from the orgasm. “Don’t talk to me.”

“I was grouchy too,” Slave One said. “I remember, we were all like that at first.”

“Where are you guys from, anyway?”

Garrick’s question made them exchange looks. Slave One said, “Mommy doesn’t want us to talk about our time before this.”

“Well, she’s not here.”

They looked amongst one another again. “He doesn’t get it.”

Garrick sighed. “Hopefully, I never will.” They all went their own ways, two of them to her panties where they lay and snuggled against it, the other two to her pillow. But Slave Five, Harry, he met Garrick’s eyes and gave a greeting nod. Garrick approached him. “You seem to have your wits about you still.”

“You could say that.”

“Slave Five. I’m assuming you came here the latest, before us. Kidnapped, I should say, not came. Where are you from?” Garrick peered about himself. “If it’s ‘allowed’ to mention.”

“From Bellstead, in the west. My father’s a cobbler, and I dabbled in the arcane at the side. I came east to gain an apprenticeship under a witch, travelled through the Koll Mountains, and Mo— she got me while I rested.”

“Her name is Liza,” Garrick said, seeing the part of him that was still there and reaching in with any information that might help him. He would undo the damage she’d done, reverse whatever spell of derangement these slaves had descended into.

“How do you know that?”

“Overheard her talking to herself. Your name was Harry, was it?”

He nodded.

“How do you keep yourself sane in here? Are you really just accepting things as they are? Calling her Mommy and all that?”

Harry presented his forearms, dressed in the black hardgum. “You’ve got any ideas?”

“I’ve had some thoughts… Hardgum, when it dries up and hardens, it’s not the toughest material out there.”

Harry was listening.

Garrick tugged at the bottom by the lower end of his forearm, its texture gummy and yielding. “We spread it thin, let it harden, then find a way to crack it. Everything is large, there’ll for sure be something heavy and strong enough.”

“The air is humid around here,” Harry said. “The hardgum rarely dries. And, well, you saw it for yourself. She gets horny and wet several times a day. And if it’s not straight in her cum, it’s against her body, where it gets hot and moist. Bottom line, there’s a lot of wet interruptions throughout the day, no time to let it dry.”

Garrick noted the elongated square of sunlight stretched across the floor, beaming through the window. “Summer has just begun. The last few days have been warmer than ever before.”

Harry wasn’t quick to repudiate that point. “It’s never been warm during my time here, no.”

“Right?”

“Listen, I doubt it’s the solution you think it is. There’s no simple way out of this. And, frankly, you know why everyone accepts this? We’re well fed, taken care of, have little to worry about. I took this up with your friend just now, while she had you, but she’s a lot bigger than us. She can literally do whatever she wants with us, and we should be happy she’s not a bad person.”

“Not a bad person? Have you lost your mind? She’s kidnapped all of us to make us satisfy her twisted desires, has that part gone over your head?”

Harry shrugged. “You know what I mean. No torture or pain, she’s not selling us to the black market. Far across the seas, I’ve heard there’s a group called the Gray Rhinos, who use humans for experiments. This could be much worse. We should at least be happy it’s some innocent horniness.”

“Innocent ho—” Garrick flinched with his puzzled grimace.

“I’m not saying I prefer this. If a good chance presents itself, I’ll take it. But the way you talk about drying the hardgum, cracking it, in a way you still don’t know, these aren’t good plans. They smell of that unwillingness to accept things as they are. I had that too.”

“I have that for a good reason.” Garrick marched to the slit of sunlight coming through the side of the curtain not fully covering the window by the bed. There, Garrick sat and bared his hardgum forearms to the sunlight. In the background, the slaves were getting cozy in her panties and pillow, bathing in her scents.

Harry joined Garrick’s side, and he spoke about his life, and it confirmed to Garrick that he did indeed enjoy the presence of someone different from the rest, this stupefied bunch of four who couldn’t see anything beyond their life as Mommy’s slaves. Garrick couldn’t quite assess Harry’s mindset, he carried himself with some self-respect, yet didn’t battle the notion of being Liza’s slave.

The door opened, Liza holding Martin in her hand. He had a cloudy look, regaining focus, and given what Garrick knew, his post-orgasmic nature was clear. She’d likely had him pleasured underneath her foot as well.

The slaves once again congregated at the edge of the bed to meet her. And Liza left them hanging once again, dropping Martin off and announcing she had to prepare their food as she left again.

“Did she jerk you off as well?” Garrick asked his friend.

“Yeah… Her foot was soft… Can’t believe how big she is.”

“I’ve thought of a plan.” Garrick compared the state of his sun-batched hardgum to Martin’s, who had recently been under her humid feet. There was a noticeable difference, Garrick’s producing a clunk when knocked on while Martin’s was gummy still. He revealed the idea he had.

“Once it dries and gets stiff, what force do we have to break the hardgum? We’d have the strength if we had access to our magic, but that’s the problem to begin with.”

Garrick shrugged. “Shouldn’t be impossible to find something. We’re surrounded by enormity. Let’s start thinking, at least. We’ve got time.”

“Should something appear in this head of mine, I’ll tell you.”

After a while, Liza returned. “Dinner’s ready, slaves.” She snapped her fingers and pointed to her feet. “Come to Mommy.”

They didn’t hesitate to jump off the bed, landing on the floor with a series of thunks. They looked like ducklings following the hen. Harry took a few steps forward, glanced back at Garrick and Martin, then indicated forward. They followed. They were last to arrive before her great, sandalled feet, the slender and round toes happily waving before the slaves like eye candy, testing their self-restraint. Their heads rotated, following the toes like a cat tracing a fly in the air.

“They’re beautiful, Mommy!”

“Oh yes, they are.” She slapped her hands together and turned around, taking her steps slowly to let them all catch up. Garrick and Martin stared up at the walls of the hallway, noting two more closed doors along their side before they arrived at the open doorway leading into the main room. There, a sink and stone oven stood near the corner, a pile of crudely cut logs beside it with a small kitchen table and two chairs over a blue carpet. The door outside was open, Garrick seeing the tall mountains through it and the windows.

Liza sat at the table, a bowl of porridge and plate of fruits and nuts presented. Garrick and Martin simply followed the others, Harry giving them a few signals and marks to follow. He wasn’t surprised they weren’t placed on the table to eat, but ran underneath it, seeing the vast teal canvas that was her dress rise up with her legs, tuck in over her knees, and up her abdomen before disappearing past the table ledge. Her feet slipped out of her sandals and sat on top of them.

“Slave One to Five, I hope you’ll show our newcomers how the table manners around here are.” Liza leaned back and bent down with a spoonful of porridge. She dispersed the spoonful out over her left foot in two portions, spreading its pasty, thick texture with the bottom of the spoon. “One and Two, eat.”

“Thank you, Mommy!” They ran forward and cast themselves at her foot, beginning before any of it was allowed to skid down the slope of her foot. While they worked, she set out two new portions on her other foot, and Slave Three and Four took that one. The porridge had brownish hue from the cinnamon, with fragments of walnut and apple throughout giving the slaves an interruption to their licking and slurping as they had to chew sometimes. The quality of food didn’t seem poor, especially as Slave Four had a stout frame which he’d been able to maintain throughout his time here, a time which can’t have been short considering how devoted he was.

Garrick and Martin realized they were indeed hungry, and that, as they weren’t willing to resist to the point of starvation, would be licking their sustenance up like the slaves soon enough. They wouldn’t be as slavish as they were, Slave One and Two were clearly going over patches they’d already licked clean of porridge, continuing to lick and kiss the skin. Liza would occasionally lean back and peer down with a mouthful of her own food, watching them. Downsized to their proportions, the chunks off her spoon amounted to more than a bowl for each slave.

When they finished, she let them kiss her for another minute before sending them back. Then, she tilted her feet, letting them rest on the outer side with the soles facing each other. The spoon of porridge returned, leaving a chunk on the top of her tilted left sole.

“Slave Five, show your companions how it’s done,” Liza said, setting down two different chunks on her other foot. “Show how delectable the food is off Mommy’s feet.”

“Yes, Mommy,” he said. Harry turned back to the two of them, nodding with him as he took a step forward. “It’s not worth starving, guys. Come.” He went ahead.

Garrick didn’t move for the first few seconds, turning to Martin. Martin took that first, crucial step. “He’s right.”

Garrick knew it. Though acting on it was different, and it took a great deal to march up to her other foot and lick. But he did, and the porridge was indeed delicious. Her foot didn’t spoil the taste, they’d been so properly cleaned that it couldn’t be much worse than scooping the food off a washed plate.

Liza had her feet tilted back, to not make a straight drop down her soles and give the porridge a slope to decline upon. Her feet, as massive as they were, weren’t wider than they were tall, and Garrick and Martin had full access to its entirety. Garrick licked the porridge down her arch while Martin was on the ball of her foot, and Garrick had to get into the wrinkles to get as much of it as possible. Her sole was so soft that Garrick found himself slurping and sucking until he realized the porridge was long gone and he’d spent his seconds making out with her foot flesh. There was almost a hypnotic feel to the squishiness it had between his lips and teeth, firm yet soft, pleasant to chew at.

Garrick snapped out of it, noticing his position. He had hoped to bring Harry out of the slave-like trance he was in, recruit him back to his old self. But it seemed the opposite was happening, Harry drawing them to the slave side.

Towards the first night of Garrick and Marvin’s time as her slave, Liza retired to her bed fully naked. She had one candle lit by her night table and another on a small shelf on the opposite side, their cozy lights flickering weakly.

Liza breathed out deeply. “Slaves, you know the routine. This huge body you see is tending to all our needs, providing for us all. Thank me. Relieve my body of all its tension.”

“Yes, Mommy!” Liza lay on her back, sprawled out in a neutral position, and the slaves spread out along the outline of her enormous body and got to work. Their arms hugging and massaging, their mouths kissing, they spread their prickling tugs over her skin. Garrick and Martin did not. They weren’t adamant in their resistance, but they didn’t notice any downside either. So they remained where they were, relaxing.

“Slave Six and Seven,” Liza called out. “Mommy did tell you of disciplinary measures, did she not? I am kind, but strict when necessary.”

“What do these disciplinary measures entail?” Garrick asked. The straightforward nature of his question, the lack of using her demanded title, it compounded to an annoyance that made Liza snap her finger, so the slaves stepped back from her body. She got out of the bed.

“I believe only a demonstration can do the job at this point.”

“No, wait,” Martin said. “Just tell us, uh, Mommy.”

Liza scuffled through drawer, presenting her enormous ass as she bent over. She got a length of thread, and as she sorted it straight, had her eyes at a point on the wall above the head of her bed. Garrick found the focus of her stare, a set of blunt hooks on the wall. He already imagined the numerous positions they could end up in, and none of them were pleasing.

A few minutes later, tied up in their new bindings, Garrick and Martin hung suspended from the hooks. The ropes wound around their forearms, over the hardgum, somewhat kind in its dispersing of weight, but nonetheless leaving them terribly uncomfortable. There was a tiny projection underneath their feet to kick onto, though it was a few inches long, not enough to properly put their heels and stand on.

Liza patted her hands together. “The misbehaving slaves spend the night there. The good slaves get to sleep on Mommy’s bed. I hope tomorrow looks different for the two of you, or else the night won’t.” Liza crawled back onto her bed. “I’m sorry, Slaves. Mommy hasn’t given you all her time today, but you know how it’s like when we have new members.”

“We understand, Mommy.”

“But Mommy will reward you now.” She rotated her palms upward, presenting herself. “Worship Mommy’s body to your heart’s content.”

They happily skipped away, dispersing across her body, like leeches they picked a spot on her body where their mouths remained. They remained local, two of them staying near her thighs, two by her feet, and one up at her breast. Garrick and Marvin could hear the wet pops from their mouths releasing a strong suck on her toes, breast, thighs, and any other chunk of the firm flesh available to them. There was a lot to choose from.

“Aaaah,” Liza moaned, a gentle and protracted one. She settled back on her pillow, surrendering. “The perfect end to a day. You know the reward. Once Mommy is asleep, you may touch yourselves. Until then, there is a job to do.”

Garrick and Marvin had to listen to it all. If they had been left like this but in another room, the punishment would lose its bite. Now the contrast wasn’t just between their discomfort and the comfort of a bed, it was the contrast between their cold, bare loneliness, and the warm love the rest of them were sharing on the bed. As they hung and the minutes passed, they began to cherish the chance to cuddle up against her thigh, even recalling fondly when they’d been underneath her foot by the lake and she jerked them off.

The two couldn’t fall asleep. Even if they found a half-decent foothold against the ledge and scored a slight angle on which they reclined their backs against the wall, they couldn’t block out the noise of their worship, the sound of her moans, a constant reminder of what they didn’t have.

Eventually, the moans were noticeably absent, the sound of their mouths against her flesh the only thing left. Liza’s head was sideways against the pillow, limp and fast asleep. The slaves indulged in their promised reward. Slave Two sucked on her big toe while thrusting his manhood into her foot, needing no more than a few seconds to cum. Slave One spent his ejaculation on her other foot, while Slave Three and Four had theirs on her breast. Slave Five, Harry, buried his face between her pussy and stroked himself into a swift ejaculation. All five of them fell asleep afterward. Only then could Garrick and Martin have their own try at sleeping, though it was difficult, the bindings pulling at their shoulders and wrists, their feet constantly losing grip and sent into a faint dangle, having to find the ledge again. Their sleep was fractured, dozing off for half an hour or so before coming to again, needing another half hour to return to sleep.

“Hey, you awake?” Martin whispered.

“Yeah.” The candles had died down, the moonlight radiant and revealing the silhouette of the curtains. “Where the fuck have we ended up?”

“I don’t know.” Martin shimmied into a slightly more manageable position. “Can’t imagine we were planning to scavenge Eron. One horny giant pales in comparison to the dangers there, yet here we are. I told Harry, and he said this might have been a blessing in disguise. Saved us from an expedition that could have ended us.”

“How much better is this?”

“We’re not dead, nor are we in any danger. She’s not looking to kill us, she’s just a nymphomaniac.”

“Just?” Garrick snorted. “Those are Harry’s words. He might be the most reasonable of the bunch, but that’s a low standard. I was expecting to bring him over to reason, and I still mean to, but he’s closer to Slave One to Four than he is to us.”

“Sure. But listen, I’m not some prisoner of war who’s fervently patriotic here. There is no test of loyalty. I just want to sleep on a bed, so I’m doing what she wants tomorrow to get that.”

“You’re going to call her Mommy?”

“Why do you say it like that? It’s not that deep, Garrick. I’m not fine with our situation, and I’ll throw myself at any chance to escape. But for now, we’re locked in our hardgum, she’s a lot bigger than us, there’s not much to do. The solution won’t come in a day.”

“Whatever.” Garrick shifted his shoulders, establishing an angle against the wall. “Just help me look for a strong force that could break the hardgum. If we can get them dry and hard, we can crack them apart.”

“I’ll keep my eyes open.” Martin didn’t sound optimistic, but Garrick had to settle for that.

“Man, imagine the dreams we had, of returning from Eron with fortune.”

“Don’t remind me,” Martin said. “I thought I’d make my mother proud for once.”

“I wanted to be the man my father tried to make me, one who provides. Instead, I’m a goddamn foot slave.” Both of them exchanged a short laugh. Naturally, none of them said any more, drifting off towards sleep, or more correctly that half-awake state where they dozed in and out of consciousness or sometimes wondered if they had spent the last half hour asleep or not. Their sleep was so fractured they tracked the progression of sunrise upon the curtains, from silvery moonlight to the glow of dawn, and they fell into their deepest sleep near dawn.

“Morning, my slaves.” They expected Liza to be on her bed, calling to everyone. But she stood, eyes on Garrick and Martin hanging from the walls. None of the other slaves were present, perhaps in another room. The bed had a proper dark stain in the lower half, and Liza had put on a green dress, altogether revealing that Garrick and Martin had slept through the morning. “How was your night?”

“Terrible,” Garrick croaked, his neck and shoulders aching.

“Mommy doesn’t want to punish you. But if you’re misbehaving and not listening, it must come to this. Right?”

“Right…”

“How about this, I’ll let you boys down and give you another couple of hours on the bed, let you sleep to noon. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course.”

Martin was quick to add, “Yes, Mommy.”

The word made her nod to herself with an impressed smile. “Disciplining works wonders, it seems.” Liza reached forward and pinched their ropes, freeing them from the hooks. Not until they touched the wooden floor did their shoulders groan in relief, both falling to their knees gratefully.

However, and not to any surprise, ten graceful toes rose and fell rhythmically ahead of them, playing a tune against the wooden floor. “Come and kiss Mommy’s toes, and ask for forgiveness. Then you get another couple of hours on the bed. Or, Mommy could put you back up to hang on the wall.”

Martin staggered forward immediately, and Garrick had his moment of hesitation. But no, in that moment, a soft surface to lay upon was all he wanted. Martin dipped his head into the gap between her third and second toe, letting loose a row of kisses. “We’re sorry, Mommy.”

Garrick got the big toe of her other foot, puckering his lips and giving that creamy flesh his obedience. “We won’t do it again.” With a delay, he added, “Mommy.”

Liza looked proudly at her work. Even though Garrick did it all with his head still in the game, his mind sharp and on the lookout for any way out, he couldn’t help but wonder how he behaved now as opposed to yesterday. In a single day, he’d travelled far across the spectrum, and he wondered if all the other slaves had started this way as well.

Garrick spent the day attentive, watching what he could use to crack the hardgum. Even after the night, the material was somewhat yielding and not hardened enough to splinter. The weight of all the enormous furniture would do a solid job, the issue was how he’d move any of it. All humans were protected by their connection and affinity for magic, so accidentally hurting himself wouldn’t be the issue. He needed a great force to throw himself under or in the line of, but everything around him was static. Only Liza moved, and if she ever applied great force to them, it was through a slow crush. Worn in her sandals, smothered under her ass, sandwiched between her thighs or breasts, she did a lot to them throughout the day, but none of it amounted to the explosive burst needed to crack it apart. Her flesh was too plenty and plum.

Moreover, as Garrick was taken to the blanket by the lakeside where her toes would cuddle with him as she stroked his manhood, he noticed the hardgum had already softened. The sweat and humidity which built up under her smothering flesh undid whatever callous had amassed.

This time he gave her toes the kisses she sought, and she stroked his manhood with it, smiling. “A lot of progress so soon. Isn’t that so?”

“Yes, Mommy.” The word was quiet under his breath. She wasn’t hurried in having him reach his orgasm, Liza drew the process out, the intention clear. All the pleasure from his dick was coupled with her toes fawning over him, and day after day she’d try to connect the wires in his brain which would marry her feet to his sense of pleasure.

However, during the session, he tried his to keep his arms out and around the toes, in view of the sunlight. Garrick also kept an eye on the mountains, searching for any prominent cliff or drop he could throw himself over to break the hardgum.

“Aah.” His focus dropped as climax approached.

“Open your mouth for Mommy.”

Garrick did, and the velvety flesh of her big toe crammed its way inside. She released his manhood right as he neared the brink, toes closing together to arrest his arms, leaving him no option but to thrust his manhood into her sole for a finish.

Liza giggled. “Such a cute little, warm drizzle.” She had her dress pulled up, two fingers inside her vagina. As Garrick’s efforts died down, her toes remained clamped around him, the ball of her foot twisting and spreading the gluelike semen between them. “Human seed really is the secret lotion. My lady friends often ask me how my feet are so moist and soft, and it’s all thanks to my slaves.”

Garrick tried to speak, her big toe turning all of it into mumbling. With a renewed sprawl and her foot relenting, his mouth parted from her toe with strands of drool. “Lady friends? You meet people, uhm, Mommy?”

“Of course I do.” She touched herself rather leisurely, not erupting into an outburst of ecstasy. “My slaves are my most precious, but it would still get lonely out here alone. I’m not a hermit, you know. In fact, we’re visiting town tomorrow.”

A flower of hope blossomed within him. “Town? You mean together, all of us?”

“Mommy and her slaves, yes.” Liza pulled the dress down over her knees, kicking her leg up and Garrick with it. He was loosely glued to her foot, and after a couple of toe-flexes which wrinkled her foot, he was released, landing on the blanket. Showing how she wasn’t kidding, Liza rubbed her soles together to spread the paucity of seed across them, genuinely using it like a lotion. “Mommy needs more. It’s your friend’s turn now.” Never with a lack of ways to humiliate him, Liza slotted him in between her ass cheeks, engulfed by her bubbly flesh.

His time in there was short, pulling him out in the hallway of the cabin. She opened the door of the room Garrick had never seen, and in there was Martin and Harry. She swapped Garrick for Martin and left.

“What is this place?” Garrick asked. The room had one window and plenty of candles, a strange, wooden gurney of sorts, with straps to hold one’s wrists and ankles, sized for giants, as if surgery was performed for giants here. Aside from that there was a narrow bench, about forty feet tall with a rounded, leather top. It looked more like vaulting bench used for an obstacle course than one to be sat on, tall enough to reach a giant’s waist. There were smaller wooden poles on the floor and two on the walls, slightly taller than a human and wide as a leg. Finally, there was a large cabinet, filled with boxes and bottles of lotion and candles and different kinds of ropes, and whatever else those closed compartments hid.

“This is where it gets wild,” Harry said. “When she’s really in the mood.”

“What about that table?” Garrick pointed to the thing with built-in leather belts, two at one’s arms and two down by the ankles. “It’s for giants.”

“I explained it to your friend this way: she has customers. Trusted friends who come here and enjoy themselves.”

“Enjoy themselves? You mean the way she uses us to enjoy herself?”

“That’s one way of putting it. They pay her handsomely as well.”

“How is this—” Garrick stopped himself before finishing the sentence. “I suppose it’s kept secret. A shady, underground business of sorts.”

Harry nodded.

“Hey, I had a thought.” Garrick took in his surroundings once again. “I’ve been looking for something to crack the hardgum, and I was thinking, does she ever stomp you? Any of the slaves, I mean.”

“Stomp?”

“Yes, a violent, crushing jab of her foot. It could serve as the force to break the hardgum, if I get it dry enough.”

There was no lighting up of Harry’s expression the way one would when presented with a good idea. He narrowed his eyes, shrugging. “It does happen. This may sound surprising given how tender she presents herself, but she can have a bit of a temper. It’s usually when a trusted slave misbehaves and she’s in a sour mood, a combination of things, and then she goes off, stomping after us. Then it’s every man for himself, we try to get away and wait it out.”

“Hmm.”

“She’s not predictably angry, you can’t just insult her and expect a stomp. What did you have in mind? Get a good hour of sunlight to make the hardgum dry, then anger her? It’ll be even more difficult for you and Martin to draw out her anger, since you’re new, and misbehaving is more expected.”

“Can you give an example of a time when she went on a tantrum?”

Harry rubbed his chin, watching the window. “There is one customer, Gloria, a young, pretty lady, nineteen years old. She’s stunning, like a princess out of a fairy tale. We worshipped her, and I can’t deny there isn’t a charged chemistry with Gloria. She’s beautiful and delicate, and I think Mommy notices how some of us were genuinely charmed by her. After Gloria left, Mommy wanted us to worship her. I think it was insecurity, honestly, she wanted us to lick all her doubts away, make us forget Gloria. But we were tired after that long session, our efforts were poor, and it just set Mommy off.”

“Jealousy.”

“Yes. She asked why we were so lackluster, no one had a good answer. She asked if our minds were on Gloria. You could see the rage building in her eyes, and before anyone said a word, she swatted and kicked us away, and then stomped us into the ground repeatedly.”

“Does Gloria come by often? She sounds like a surefire way of annoying Liza.”

“Not that often, no.”

Garrick returned to thought.

Harry put a hand on his shoulder. “Mate, I hope I’m not discouraging you. Trust me when I say I hope you succeed in finding a way. It’s been a breath of fresh air having you and your friend around, it’s brought me closer to normal. I hope you keep that fire going, instead of turning into the other four.”

“Don’t you worry. And also…” Garrick took Harry’s forearm, turning it into a brotherly handshake. “I’m doing this for you as well. I’m not trying to get myself out of here, not just Martin either, but you.” He glanced at the door. “The other four, I’m not sure. They seem gone.”

“They are.” Harry released his hand. “Slave Two, he’s an experienced mage.”

“What? He’s not wearing any hardgum!”

“I know. Him and Slave One are out collecting herbs and berries deeper in the mountains, and like loyal cows gone out grazing, they’ll return to their land at the end of the day. He can run, he chooses not to. They’re all like that.”

Garrick shook his head. “Damn.”

“Let’s make a promise,” Harry said. “No matter what happens, we’ll never end up like that.”

Garrick smiled, provided with a beacon of normalcy amidst this nonsense, and hope that, should all his plans collapse, should freedom never be granted him and he’d forever be Liza’s slave, there was something of worth in that life still. He clasped Harry’s hand. “Promise.”

Garrick and Martin scored themselves a night on the bed with Liza for their better behavior. There, as they all kissed and licked Liza until she slept, Garrick gave Martin a gesture, that he wanted a word. When at last she fell asleep, the slaves released their day-long restraint and masturbated, allowed their own release. They were forbidden to do so throughout the day as it would hurt their ambitions. It also served to make the day’s work more rewarding and purposeful, all the teasing and building given a meaningful release at the end, rather than diminishing into a throwaway event they were generously awarded several times a day.

After it had been silent for a while, Garrick lurched down from the warmth of her inner thigh to her calf where Martin lay. He tapped his shoulder.

“You’ve got something?” Martin said, hushed, their heads right beside one another.

“She told me that we’re going to town tomorrow.”

Martin got up from where he lay, half-sitting. “Town? We? All of us?”

“Asked the exact same thing, and she said yes. I don’t know if it literally means that we all waltz into town as a company. We find the nearest guard and scream for help otherwise. She can’t be that stupid, can she?”

“I pray she is. Maybe our sudden shift in attitude has gone over her head, and she thinks we’re faithfully tagging along.”

“No way.”

“Who knows. She’s received nothing but unwavering obedience from these dogs. It can have gotten to her, expecting us to fit right in with that.”

Garrick let a cautionary silence pass. No other presence emerged. “I should hope so. I wanted you to know ahead of time, keep your mind sharp for any way out.”

“Good.”

“Also, I spoke with Harry. He’s a good man.”

Martin nodded. “I’ve had conversations with him too. He would make a fine friend, not just here, but outside these mountains.”

“I believe so too. Anyway, sleep well.” He patted Martin on the shoulder and returned to her thigh. Despite having kidnapped and keeping him there against his will, he found her thigh surprisingly hospitable, protective, a comfort to lie under, and Garrick slept well.

***

Garrick should have known their visit to the town wouldn’t be what it seemed. It did indeed entail the act of literally visiting a real town. Liza put on a maroon, satin gown slashed with patterns of white diamonds, gathering her brown hair into a small, braided bun over the head. She had a simple, white beaded necklace, the gown reaching her shins, and she wore a pair of full, blue slippers. However, the slaves wouldn’t be wearing anything different than their naked skin, nor would they find themselves anyplace else. Liza wore bras and panties, and within the bra Slave One and Two were cupped into a breast each. Slave Five, Harry, was in her panties, and as if put on a cross, his legs were tied together to the narrowing strap of the underwear arching underneath her ass while his hands were secured up by the hemline. The panties were tight, cradling him against her warm pussy and presenting his outline through the fabric, concealed by the long gown. Inside her slippers, Slave Three and Four were underneath the outer portion of each foot, their heads popping out between the middle and fourth toes. Garrick and Martin were on the inner portion, the big and second toe the neighbor to each of their cheeks. Garrick was on her left foot while Martin was on the right.

Along with Harry in her panties, Garrick and Martin were gagged firmly, unable to get a word out. Garrick and Martin’s arms were also tied around the neck of her big and second toe, while Harry’s were to the edge of her panties, unable to untie the muzzle. That even Harry received such confinements wiped away any hope Garrick had of a lack of shrewdness from her end. Liza was aware that even Slave Five, despite all his obedience, despite doing everything right by the looks of it, had something else in his heart. She minimized any chance of a slip-up as she began her promenade through the valleys of the Koll mountains.

The slippers had straps to secure them to her feet, reducing any chance of accidentally slipping off. Garrick experienced the roller coaster of her weight bearing down on him, kicking off, then dragging backwards as the foot barreled forward through the air, and into another step where her weight bore down on him. The fluffy texture of her soles helped with the pressure, his body sinking into her downy flesh, helping to absorb the pressure, and she thankfully paid heed to them and tread lightly. The biggest fight for Garrick was to secure his head in the hold between her big and second toe. Between was far more preferable than underneath. Despite their plum underside, they would add another source of pressure to his head which he’d rather avoid, especially when it seemed he’d spend at least a couple of hours in here.

The insult to this embarrassing reality was the man Garrick shared the role of instep with, Slave Four, whose head was between her third and fourth toes. In the midst of her turbulent walk, he spent every available second of head-freedom to dip his face between the toe gap and kiss, to suck on a portion of toe flesh before the next phase of her walk stole away his voluntary movement. Garrick thought he’d seen humiliation at its peak, but there was a different taste to it now when Slave Four worked so diligently to show his love to the toes and foot which held him captive, which crushed him, which paid no heed to his pitiful existence. He looked like the pathetic lover kneeling in the garden with a bouquet upheld to the fair maiden at the window, yet he remained there for hours even after the rejection, the rain pouring upon him, and there was no glorious redemption to the tale. He just sat there. Likewise, Slave Four just worshipped, when the toes wouldn’t cease to step on and ignore his appeals.

Another detail to this new condition was the building heat. How perfumed and clean Liza’s feet had been upon the start of the journey didn’t matter. The acrid sweat easily replaced the pleasantness, coating her toes and giving them that slippery layer that, the one thing to appreciate, made their heads more elusive to grip onto. Although his hardgum turned thick and shock-absorbing from the moisture and Garrick’s arms were tied to her toes, this was the kind of force he was looking for. If he could get the hardgum dry, the goal was to end up here, and he found hope in the precedent this set, that she didn’t mind stepping on them.

The susurrus of crinkling leaves and swaying treetops revealed there was no proper path, which Garrick was aware of. The border to Eron wasn’t the most attractive land across Gharn, especially for humans. It helped Liza maintain her secret. However, this unspecified ‘town’ she mentioned came surprisingly early. Maybe her feet had stomped the sense of time out of him, but perhaps half an hour passed until the trees were no more and the sound she made were allowed to spread out over an expanse, free from the valleys. Soon enough, he even heard a girl speak to her mother, a giant child, along the trundling of enormous wheels over a road drawn by the giant cattle.

The surrounding conversations drew the image of a street in town. The walking had interruptions now, Liza standing by a stall as she purchased fruits and nuts, Garrick’s body caving into her moist soles. The toes would absent-mindedly flick his head around, squeeze him until his entire head was submerged in sweaty, squishy flesh. He was grateful for the need to keep him silent, as the muzzle prevented those toes and their bitter flesh to enter his mouth. The opposite held true for Slave Four. His open mouth was a blessing, using it to lap away at her toes and replace the sweat with his spittle.

“Liza, sweetheart, doesn’t it get lonely out there?” a woman selling enormous watermelons said.

“I enjoy those mountains,” Liza said. “I have my guests, also, and when I come in here, I fill up my need to see others with your delightful company.”

The vendor chuckled. “Oh, you charmer.”

Despite how forgettable Liza had made him inside her slipper, Garrick could feel the direction of her comments, the sting of its provocation directed right at him. To put Slave Four beside him was no accident, having Garrick hear the sound of his worship and be reminded, every passing second, every wet slurp and kiss, how he was choosing this when he had the freedom to scream for help. This applied for everyone, Slave One and Two on her breast were likely nestling against her nipples, while Martin in the other slipper likely had an equally sloppy neighbor. And with how normal everyone in this town perceived Liza to be, how Garrick himself wouldn’t find her odd amidst the crowd had he seen her in her modest dress, everything compounded to the most striking taunt Garrick had felt, slashing his ego to bits. She was a kidnapping, raping maniac, hiding in plain sight before these normal people, and she brought them along to show them how far the disguise could go. Garrick could feel the heart of her intentions, flaunting their powerlessness before them and showing how close yet far away they were.

As Liza was in her conversations, Slave Four was rocking up and down. Garrick realized he was humping the ball of her foot, the perspiration making their fleshy contact a slippery and easy business. He moaned with his mouth full of her fourth toe, quivering, revealing the orgasm. Wasn’t this forbidden? Could it be a cause for Liza’s rage later? Garrick wondered for how long he could maintain this sharpness, this keen mind searching for a way out. Inside her slippers, in this foot oven, it felt as if her sweat and weight were draining it away.

Slave Four resumed cuddling with her toes after his orgasm, in what could not possibly be pleasure, but a sense of duty. Liza moved closer to the town square, the cacophony of conversation louder, a flute and drum instrument playing a tune from somewhere. She sat on a bench, the weight relenting. However, that didn’t mean they were left unbothered. With her slippers barely touching the pavement, Liza planted her toes down on their heads and curled them slightly, but repeatedly. Her toes remained, causing her soles to slide up and down. At first, Garrick thought she was dancing to the tune, but the tempo was out of sync.

Memories went to when Garrick lay on the blanket by the lakeside, under her feet. With the memories, his manhood stirred, and with that, the understanding of what was going on.

She was stroking their dicks.

There was nowhere to hide from the advance, no stopping these enormous vehicles from moving back and forth. Garrick’s disappointment was proportional to his lust’s increasing response, the heightened sensitivity of his manhood, the miniscule motions his hips made to meet the surface of the soft soles. The smallness of his motions was no comfort, their existence at all was his bane, his mind screaming at him to stop but finding himself unable to. There was an automaticity to his responding lust that made him wonder if Liza had any magical powers, or if his base, manly desires were such a predictably animalistic thing to manipulate.

Slave Four moaned, whispering, “I love you Mommy.” He moaned into her third toe as he ejaculated once more. The soles were moving still. Garrick knew she was after him and Marvin, and they were powerless to do anything.

Garrick tried to holler, shout, producing nothing but a dark, muted groan through the muzzle. He squirmed to fight, put himself in another position, but there was no avoiding it. No perfume or cleanliness was needed, she’d brought him to where he could spurt his seed in that humid, sweaty, pungent slipper. The big and second toes rubbed his cheeks when they noticed his cum, commending him. He felt the weakness following orgasm, and with her big toe lazily sliding up and down, it brought the comfort of a mother’s tender touch, and under that, inside her slipper, Garrick dozed off into sleep.

Much like the night when he hung from the wall, Garrick drifted in and out of sleep, a few minutes aware of the foot oven he was cooking inside of and the grappling toes toying with his head, while phasing out for the next few minutes. Liza spent most of her time stationary, moving occasionally through town, when Garrick would be awake the most, all of it averaging out to a steady half-sleep where twenty minutes or so were easily skipped past. It was a condition Garrick more than welcomed, to spend as little time present as possible.

Slave Four wasn’t incessantly passionate in his worship. It would be inhuman to. He joined Garrick in the languor, especially since he’d experienced the tranquility of more than one orgasm. Though his instincts hadn’t left him entirely. Slave Four would throw out a kiss or two, meet the toes in their movement, and present his beard which Liza loved to scratch her toes against.

Garrick’s sharpest wakening came when Liza entered a tavern, the rowdy noise ending his drowsiness with finality. His hair wasn’t exactly wet, but it gained a wilted quality from the dampness, a bead of sweat trailing down his forehead every now and then.

Liza sat down by a table in the heart of all the noise. She was with someone, Garrick unable to hear the conversation, only discerning the hum of their voices amidst it all. Occasional words were sharp, but none of it concluded a sentence. Liza had no shortage of company beyond the Koll Mountains, it seemed, and Garrick wondered how much they knew of her true nature, of the seven enslaved humans currently trapped in her body. He was also surprised how well she maintained her composure. This wasn’t the Liza he’d witnessed in the cabin. That Liza wouldn’t be able to hold a straight face, with two slaves worshipping her breast, another bunch her toes, and even with Slave Five tied to her panties. This side of her scared Garrick, the confidence with which she’d taken them out here without worrying about her crimes being unraveled. Such confidence made him feel his chances of escaping her was lower.

Whenever Garrick had an itch on his face, the only way to remedy it was to rub it away against her toes. She’d mistake it for affection, the toes caressing him back. At this point, with how engaged she was in conversation and how faint the movement of her feet were, Garrick wasn’t sure he was even interacting with Liza. The toes had lost purpose in their movement, disconnected from her consciousness, and how he received the absent-minded rubs and squirms brushing past his face. When Garrick made a move against her toes, they returned the act with automaticity.

Garrick wondered how Martin was handling this on the neighboring foot. He couldn’t imagine it be any different. Though he did consider if Harry had it worse being tied to her panties. Between her legs, he’d been spared her weight while she walked, but now as she sat, her pussy was pancaking his whole body, and despite how disciplined Liza’s character was and how she was resisting the temptations, Garrick doubted she could control every part of her physiology. That pussy was wet without a doubt, secreting its love juice all over Harry the way a mouth drools while sucking on a treat.

The legs of the chair grated against the floor as Liza stood, her big toe squashing Garrick’s face again. Garrick couldn’t tell if she said goodbye to her current company and met another one, but greetings were exchanged, the voices of the tavern all crashing into one another. Liza walked up a set of stairs, Garrick feeling the wooden planks groaning underneath him, with him. She walked down a hallway, the susurrus of the tavern falling behind them and the local sounds made sharper. Now he could hear that someone else was with her.

“This room,” the other woman said, a younger voice. They entered. The door closed and shut the hubbub away, entering the room as low mutters through the walls.

“You’ve got the money?” Liza said.

The clink of coins was unmistakable. “Go ahead and count it.” She tossed the pouch, a metallic clink as Liza caught it. She opened and counted, fingers rifling through in a series of chinking and clanging.

“Looks good.”

After a moment of silence, the other woman said, “Woah, you keep them in your breast?” Liza must have brought one of the slaves out from her bra.

“Mommy? What’s wrong?” It was Slave Two’s voice.

“Be a good boy and relax.”

“You make them call you Mommy?” The tone was one of judgement. “You’re a little twisted, lady.”

“I’m not sure you’re the one to deal out verdicts like that,” Liza said. “Considering you’re paying to get to a taste of what they’re like yourself.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Sit tight, like Mommy said,” Liza said, and she handed Slave Two over to the other girl. Liza leaned against the door as the buyer leaned on a piece of furniture, its legs scraping over the floor.

“He doesn’t even seem fazed, hovering before my pussy. They’re practiced.” A quivering breath escaped her. “Oh, lord above. He fits right inside. You’ve got the door?”

“Don’t worry about that, no one’s coming inside. Just enjoy yourself.”

By the sounds of it, she was, her breaths pronounced and audible. A short, excited giggle would slip out of her every now and then. “I can’t believe it. He’s like a tool. I’m just… doing this to him, and he can’t do anything. He’s not even complaining.” She giggled again, levelled out by a satisfied hum. Slowly but surely, as she got on, a new sound emerged, the slimy, smooth friction of her vaginal walls receiving its guest.

For a while now, Garrick had suffered the bare minimum of the humid sweat and pressure that came with being stuck inside her slippers. But at least he’d been left alone by her big and second toes, and unfortunately, that changed now as the digits flexed and reached to grip his head. They were more tense, clutching his skull and covering him in the pulpy toe flesh anew. He could feel Liza’s lust build up, the cracks in the glass that was the composure she’d maintained all this time. Watching the customer masturbating with Slave Two was making Liza heat up from within, a boiling point. Liza sat on a chair, granting her feet and especially toes greater dexterity to handle the four slaves in her slippers, and they became the objects she unleashed her lust on. The toes wrestled with their heads, smothering and smushing. Slave Three and Four responded with the worship she was after while Garrick and Martin, their mouths gagged, were acting as the ragdolls the toes wanted.

The masturbation from the customer grew, the rhythm increasing, the wet claps of her slamming Slave Two inside her outcompeting the murmur from the tavern easily. Even though a bit of rowdiness in one of the rooms would be expected during an evening at the tavern, the customer put her hand in her mouth, choking her own cries of pleasure. The pressure around Garrick’s head peaked, the toes tucking him in underneath, packing his face against the soft portion where the toes merged with the ball of the foot. He could tell how desperately they wished his gag was loose, that his mouth was available for them.

The toes relented, the soles sliding back and forth again. The movement ripped their abdomens free from their adhesive marriage to the foot where their semen had dried, though it seemed that supply would only be renewed.

“Mommy,” Slave Four moaned, hungrily making out with her fourth and third toe, alternating between them with rapid, hungry kisses. Despite having racked up more than two orgasms already, Slave Four released yet another one at the mercy of her foot.

Garrick didn’t fight it this time. He did it with somewhat of a nonchalant attitude, excited over teaching her a lesson. Liza must have worn that smug smile when she scored the first orgasm out of him using nothing but her foot, and now she was getting cocky, going for more. So it was with great dread and yet another newfound level of embarrassment that Garrick helplessly noticed his manhood stiffen, again. The moans of the customer played their part, the sound of a lady in ecstasy as she masturbated.

He sprawled like a fish on land, grunting as much noise in objection as the muzzle allowed, as the semi-painful ejaculation was brought out of him. The big toe rubbed his cheek soothingly, and accordingly, his efforts died down as his orgasm reached an end. He could feel the sentiment the toe’s caress provided, telling him everything would be alright, welcoming him to the company of slaves who loved her feet. ‘It’s ok,’ Liza’s voice in his head whispered. ‘You’re one of Mommy’s slaves now, and there’s nothing wrong with that.’ Those words, the ones which his mind were playing to himself, did find a home. He could feel his powerlessness now stronger than ever before, needing an immense effort to pool his resolve and hope together.

The customer rode Slave Two into a few more climaxes before she was done. Liza asked her if she was happy with the service, and with a giggle, the girl answered she indeed was. Liza received Slave Two, wiped him clean, and put him back inside her bra. Then she left the tavern, making her way out of town, and once there her steps were quicker, giving them a more hectic ride inside her slippers.

“Mommy can’t keep it in anymore,” she said in half a moan, with no ears around as she neared the valley. Garrick knew what waited them when she came home.

Liza neared her secluded home on a late evening, and on the last stretch back to her cabin, she moved like someone who urgently needed to use the bathroom. The trees were shoved aside roughly, her feet slamming the slaves inside her slippers as all her grace was gone, jogging back home.

“You little slaves…” Liza’s pant was half fatigue and half lust. “Mommy needs a very good effort from you when we get home. Anyone who doesn’t do everything I say will spend an entire week sleeping from the hooks.”

Garrick would be grateful to simply be out of this slipper, to lie on that bed and sleep undisturbed. He’d do whatever she asked.

The sound of the waterfall by the lake was dimly present. Liza touched herself as the cabin came into view, and as excruciating as it had been inside her slipper, Garrick wasn’t sure being tied to her panties like Harry was much preferable.

Liza hurried up the steps and barged through the front door, stumbling through with one hand on her crotch and the other on her breast. The pouch of coins she’d been paid were clamped under her armpit. She appeared feverish, ailed by disease. Hand on the back of a chair for support, she bent forward to unlatch the straps of her slippers. Then she kicked them free, allowing the cool and fresh world to greet the four slaves thereunder. As she shuffled her way to the hallway, they weren’t any less stuck to her soles, glued from the cum and with Garrick and Martin even having their arms tied around the big and second toes. Liza threw the pouch of coins to a table in the hallway, landing with a metallic rustle.

Her destination was the special room Garrick and Martin had seen once, with the small wooden poles on the ground, the large, gurney-looking table, the vaulting bench, and the exceptionally large cabinet. The light from the evening sky made the room semi-gloomy, the faint blue light preventing complete darkness. Liza slammed the door behind her. With a tug, she drew the neckline of the gown over her shoulder, then shimmied the other shoulder out of it. She shivered and chortled maniacally, pulling the thing down, with hints of frustration at the end as she kicked the darn thing off her calves.

Her bulging, bloated pussy was literally dripping, and half of Harry’s body along most of the panties had been stuffed inside its ravenous mouth. His head and left arm were sticking out from the pink lips, his hair hanging in soaked tendrils.

“Every single one of you,” Liza said, biting her lip. “Lick!” Slave Four and Three delivered their love to her fourth and third toes while One and Two, their human-shaped prints visible on the bra, put their mouth on her nipples. Lastly, Harry leaned up and caught her clit with his mouth. Liza’s spine straightened like a rope pulled taut, a short cry slipping out of her, followed by a laugh. She moved over to the cabinet, opening a compartment and bringing out of a thick blanket. All the while, Liza was plagued by sporadic bouts of involuntary movement as the mouths of those slaves delivered a symphony of mouth-work that would sometimes converge into a single burst of pleasure, making her wince as if braving to touch ice-cold water.

Liza whipped the blanket out over the floor, then brought a pillow out, tossing it to the end of the rectangular blanket. She almost missed, coordination thrown off by a zap of ecstasy. However, her head snapped down quickly, eyes suddenly wide and strict. They alternated between Garrick and Martin. “Slave Six and Seven. Did I not make myself clear?”

They wriggled as much as their bindings allowed them, shouting into their muzzles.

“Oh, that’s right.” She held her anger at bay. Liza bent forward, her stomach and breast fluttering with unexpected breaths. Her index and thumb undid the tie around their head, tossing the muzzles aside. Garrick and Martin licked her big toes, and that spiked Liza’s delight more than they expected. Liza leaned against the cabinet, and Garrick realized the toes had likely never gotten used to having a slave’s head near them for so long without being kissed. They had been tantalized all this time.

Liza moaned, eyes closed with shoulders hunched up. “Naughty little slaveboys.” Liza proceeded with her preparations, bringing out several candles and placing them an arm’s length away from the blanket’s periphery. Using matches, she lit them one after the other, and despite having trouble moving from the paralyzing pleasure, she whispered at them not to stop. Ten candles were lit around the blanket, and Liza drew the curtains of the window. The candle-lit glow provided a cozy, romantic air in the room.

Liza drew her bead necklace over her head and tossed it to the pile her gown was left in. She undid the braided bun and let her brown hair fall down, fluffing it out with her fingers like a lady preparing herself for a ball. Liza eased the bra down, releasing those globular breasts, and indeed, much like the four slaves at her feet, Slave One and Two were glued to her breast from their own dried cum. Her nipples were stiff, the slaves taking care of them with their mouths. “Ah, fuck.”

The panties were the last obstruction, along with Harry who was tied to them. Biting her lips, she pulled the panties along Harry free from her gluttonous pussy, fingers twiddling with his bindings. It wasn’t quite frustration, but a bubbling of hot passion, and Liza bit her teeth and grunted. She clawed her panties and tore them apart, freeing Harry that way. “You love Mommy’s soft flesh, don’t you?” The question was directed downwards, over the landscape of her gigantic body, prickled with worship. She reared her head up with an excited shriek, stepping past the candles and lying down on the blanket, putting the pillow under her head.

There was no more wait. Liza pumped Harry in and out of her pussy with a speed like it were the ignition put to the gunpowder, and there it became clear how this had been on her mind every minute of her time in town. Garrick couldn’t fathom how someone as horny as Liza could contain herself throughout the day, and now she was compensating for it with vigorous energy.

She moaned the lord’s name as the orgasm crashed through her, her abdomen tense and the muscles outlined. Dimly through her overpowering presence could Garrick hear the tiny, pathetic licks and kisses they all gave her.

“Ah!” She shrieked, masturbating right through to the second and third orgasm. “You’re mine! All of you little slaves, you’re mine, now and until the end of time! You…” A shrill, girly cry tore out as she arched her back, unrelenting on both Harry and her pussy. Her other hand rubbed circles around the clit, and a gusher of her love liquids shot right out. “AAAAAAAAAAH!” If someone were to listen from beyond the door, they’d believe it to be a torture chamber as Liza crashed through a fourth and fifth orgasm. For two minutes straight, she squirted, the force of it alternating between a jet shooting out beyond the blanket and the steady stream threading down under the curvature of her cheeks and dripping underneath. From between the V-shaped spread of her legs, the blanket was stained dark, two of the candles put out from her shots. Garrick didn’t need to do much anymore, the toes were clenched tight, locking his head. At first they acted as shields from the squirt, but eventually it was so profuse that her feet were struck plenty and it coursed down between her toes.

She used the day-long build-up to its fullest and extracted as many orgasms as she could from the situation. Towards the end, she shoved Harry all the way in, ripped Slave One and Two free from her breast and put them on the pillow, then put it between her legs. She humped the two of them against the pillow for the last orgasm, ensuring they wouldn’t miss out on her sweet liquid. After that, her efforts died down, falling asleep with a drunken smile.

The following morning was peaceful, thankfully. Liza’s energy was not inexhaustible. After breakfast, Liza gathered wood from the trees near the house, while Martin, Garrick, and Harry loitered by the lakeside. Liza had half a watchful eye over them, but mostly it was the other slaves, who’d holler if they wandered too far away.

“It’s insane, you can’t make sense of time and space,” Harry said, answering one of Martin’s questions of how it was like to be used in Liza’s pussy. “You close your eyes and mouth, tightly, and you just wait it out.”

“I guess getting fucked like that is our new normal,” Martin said, throwing a rock across the water.

Garrick snorted. “I would have contested that a few days ago. But what is there to say now? The time from when we walked towards Eron, it feels like an eternity ago when it was just days. In such a short time, she’s gotten us used to getting fucked, licking her toes, everything. It won’t be long until we call her Mommy like the rest of them, the way they do, and fawn over her. I mean, look…” Garrick didn’t need to shield his eyes from the sun, covered by the clouds. “Hardgum will only dry if the weather allows it, and… Uhh, that entire plan just sounds like a pipedream at this point.”

“Listen to you guys,” Harry said. “It’s as if our roles have reversed and I’m the hopeful one. It hasn’t even been a week of you being here. Did you expect to escape so quickly?”

“I would have liked that, yes.”

“It’ll come. If you’re determined and keep on it, you’ll find a way. Men have escaped the most absurd prisons, in ways you would believe are completely fictional. And yes, it was without magic. She’s keen and smarter than she lets on, but she’s just one mind. It will come.”

Martin chuckled. “That gives me hope. Not just your words, but that you can say it after all the time you’ve spent here.”

“Exactly. And, listen, I may have referred to her behavior as innocent horniness before. But what I mean by that is, if we were to be here for another year, we won’t be starving, we will see the sun and the beautiful skies it inhabits. We will feel the grass under us, hear the waterfall crash. Prisoners would dream of this. The daily life we go through, licking her and all that, see it as a day of work.”

It went quiet at first.

“He’s right,” Martin said. “The painful part about this is imagining a lifetime here, as her slaves. But we’re not spending a bloody lifetime here, are we? We have to escape. But we aren’t in a rush.”

“Slaves!” Liza clapped her hands in the distance. “I want you all at the porch in ten minutes. Mommy needs you to rub some lotion in on her legs.”

“A day of work…” Garrick repeated to his friends beside him. “I suppose.” The puff of clouds shrouding the sun drifted aside, and the rays blared down, the water glimmering underneath it and sitting over Garrick’s skin like a thin, warm veil. There was nothing wrong with this moment, he could appreciate that.

They would escape; Garrick accepted no other future. However, for now, this was the life he had, and that wasn’t the end of the world.