Naked aside from a pair of sandals, Ada towered over all ten of them. Henry looked around at the nine props with him, compatriots from the arena, equally naked to Ada, except they had a pair of modrock cuffs around their forearms suppressing their magic. They would suffer in battle and now they’d suffer in this closed marble room. Happy, fearful, sad, angry, they hadn’t registered what was coming their way enough to show an emotion yet. It was mostly confusion, the studious face full of thought, they were in the process of realizing what she wanted, what was about to happen. The young one who’d earlier complented Ada’s looks and showed envy of Henry’s situation as officially being her slave, he showed the most awe, staring agape at her curvy and ample physique. There were marks over Ada’s body, several faint, wrinkly lines of healed wounds across her thighs and torso. Henry remembered the fall she’d taken from the cliffside after Rennard’s shot at her eyes.
The distance she had from them now, two large strides for her, must have been enough for her to make out who was who, for those wounded, milky eyes moved across the ten humans but had a particular focus on Henry. Her tongue came out and slowly licked around the lips in one, slow, circle.
“Finally,” she said. “The arena should be proof enough that you don’t stand a chance against me. But the fact that you’ve got those modrock cuffs on you should erase any thought of meaningful resistance. More than that, there’ll be misdemeanors on you if you don’t do as I say today. Extended sentences, lesser rewards, I hope you props know what it means.”
“We know well enough.” One of the middle-aged props named Michael said that, and he did it with a surly tone. “And we’ve been informed.”
“You’ll address me as goddess or mistress.”
The props shared looks between one another, and a disharmonious variation of ‘yes mistress’ or goddess was given.
“A good start,” Ada said. “When this is over, I’ll select two of you who did the worst and tell them you didn’t go along with what I said, earning you a misdemeanor mark. So more than merely following orders, you should also be eager to do a good job to stay out of the bottom two.”
Those were not joyous looks, but there was nothing for them to do. “Yes mistress,” the youngest one said.
“Someone is looking to be my favorite.” Ada took her first step towards them, and the second brought her sandaled foot beside them. Ada straddled them, all of them craning their neck up to follow the pillars that were her legs until they saw the great pink eye of a pussy staring at them. “It would only be natural for me to start with my exclusive, lifelong slave.” Ada squatted down, everyone uneasily shifting about as an imminent crush seemed likely. But the ass and thighs paused above them, dwarfing all ten of them with a passing perfumed scent of kiwi and lavender. The hand reached for Henry.
Henry wasn’t surprised to be the first one out. She likely wanted to humiliate him before the others, go hard on him first. The fingers closed around him firmly and lifted him. He was brought before her face, able to see the wounds around her eyes in better detail. Somehow, in that moment, he found it in him to pity her.
“In the end, I got you,” she whispered. “Ever since that barn, you’ve done a lot of fighting, you’ve played coy for a long time, but now you’re my slave. And you’re going to like it.”
“Yes, mistress,” Henry said, and he realised that unlike the others, it wasn’t an act for the day. She was his mistress and he was her slave, by definition. There was a document of it somewhere, in the archives, stamped with what they called a “Richmond seal”, one which covered the Rich-families of the east with the Richwoods being one of them. Ada walked away from the props without an order, the slap of her sandals against her heels echoing across the marble room. Henry wondered what her move would be. No doubt she’d use him before the rest to embarrass him, try and rid him of all shame and make him accept his position.
Ada stopped at the cupboard. First she plucked a grape from the bowl of fruit and plopped it into her mouth, then opened one of the drawers with her free hand and rifled through objects therein. She procured a short coil of rope like thin threads to her size. Ada put Henry front first onto the cupboard and pinched his hands together, tying the wrists. Henry thought of the many things she’d do with this rope, where on her body she’d wear him. What he didn’t expect was for the bindings to stop at the wrists, for her to put him down on the floor and then tie him to the leg of the cupboard. She left him there.
Ada took two steps away from him and turned towards the props. With one hand on her hip, she assumed a regal pose, pointing down. “All nine of you dogs will get down and crawl to my feet. Now.”
It did not happen in obedient unison, but all nine did get down and started crawling eventually, from their comfortable blanket onto the open marble surface.
“Remember the bottom two,” Ada said, and that put a bit of haste to the laggards. They arrived before a row of ten round and long toes, so thoroughly cleaned and washed that one would believe the sandal-clad feet were those of a rich young lady who’d never braced the dangers of the world, a far cry from the dirty, stomping monstrosities that had hunted them in arena. “Worship.” The one word was spoken with a dark and commanding voice. Ada loved the role she could play in here, this closed room where she, spoiled for a day, could believe that she was a powerful lady. And she didn’t have to be delusional to enter some otherworldly trance where all of that was true. Imagination wasn’t needed. Reality was clear as nine humans crawled around her, kissing, licking, and slobbering over her sandaled feet. The enthusiasm amongst them varied, though the few who worshipped passionately made others realize they might become the bottom two, and competition began.
It was exactly as Ada said. In this closed room for this day, she was their goddess. The room was filled with the smacking of kisses and the slimy stroke of tongues across saliva-coated foot flesh, competing with the rumbling from the jet of fountain water pouring into the pool. They tended to her toes, in between them, the soft inner side of the feet entering into the arch, the rougher outside and heel, and even her sandals. Henry could visibly see Ada’s breath quicken, her breast moving. The mere act of watching the nine props underneath her made her quiver, understandably, for this was a level of domination Ada had never achieved. Not even when she captured Henry and his two friends. It wasn’t even comparable, for the three of them stubbornly defied her all the way, with a slight exception for Henry. But these nine props had little choice and obeyed. He could see how she was drinking in the sight of them at her feet, how she sometimes had to rear her head up with closed eyes, as watching for too long was intoxicating. Her pussy had swollen up noticeably from when she first entered the room.
“Ah, god,” Ada moaned. “At ease, my dogs.” They stepped back from her feet. Ada kicked her sandals off and sat right before the nine props, stretching her legs out. She sat against the cupboard too, giving Henry a view right down the middle of her legs. The nine props couldn’t ignore the large sensitive pink lips staring right at them, hungry for the taste of humans after the foot-worshipping foreplay had warmed her up. Ada observed the nine props who waited for instructions between her calves. Then she leaned forward, hand reaching for one of the props. It was the most muscular one of the group she grabbed, one named Ben. Ada held him to her face. “You look like a big, strong guy.” She put him down right in front of her pussy, enough to have the scent of its wetness fill up his nostrils. “Do you think you can handle your lady’s most sensitive parts?”
“O- of course, mistress,” he said without eye contact, staring slack-jawed at her nethers.
“Then you’ll be responsible for worshipping it. As for the rest…” She singled out two other props, Leeman and another who, likely not coincidence, was the other older man of the bunch. “You two will worship my feet. The rest of you…” She showed her palms and spread them apart, the gesture of an open invitation. “My legs, pick whatever part, and get to work with those little mouths of yours.”
“Yes mistress.” They spread apart. Leeman and the other older figure took the feet, the six others spread apart, three on each leg, and the muscular one in the middle set to lapping away at her lips. Ada planted her palms onto the ground behind her with a slight lean and watched the nine humans worshipping her, granting her a fantasy so few could dream of ever having. The devotion she received, the veneration they showed, it was something comparable to a bronze age of slaves enthralled to statues of their deities. This trascended pleasure and mere carnal domination; the experience the props provided took Ada to a godlike high, making her think for a moment she was some literal sun goddess and these temple builders had gone on a long pilgrimage up the mountains to worship her.
The younger one of the props, Michael, who’d been shoved inside Ada’s pussy during the battle in the arena and had reciprocated Ada’s lust the most, he had rushed to upper part of her thigh upon their received task and was now ogling jealously at the muscular prop who worked at Ada’s pussy. In half hug and half massage, Michael held onto as much as Ada’s thigh as he could and made out with the soft and supple flesh, his manhood rising. Most of them gave that response, except for the elder at her feet, for this was likely the best punishment the props had endured. How much they liked Ada or what they thought of her didn’t matter, their unfulfilling lives here in the arena where they likely never had the chance to properly meet a woman meant they indulged in the chance to taste a soft, creamy chunk of feminine flesh. Even when they thoroughly coated one tiny patch with their saliva-riddled worship, there was plenty of creamy and soft virgin skin left to place their lips onto, skin that had been cleaned and buttered with royal creams and ointments.
The one part which didn’t register for them was in between Ada’s moans as she called them slaves and dogs. The dissonance was clear on some, causing pause to their worship, half blanching. It was their pride. They had some self-respect, and Henry felt like the odd one out, for he would never flinch in his worship. He gave in, he succumbed, he took it all, and he’d be lying to himself if he denied it played a part in the pleasure. That night when he’d masturbated to his memories of what Ada had done to him and his friends, or even when the servant in the Charmer’s house ground his body underneath her toes, or when Lily kept him in her sandal during the feast and he literally couldn’t contain himself. He took that innocent girl and worshipped her toes to enter a fantasy where she was dominating him.
And Ada knew it the most. That was why she’d chained him to the leg of the cupboard with a perfect view of her spread legs and the nine props giving her a complete lower body worship. With his hands tied behind his back, Henry couldn’t even touch his raging boner, and all he could do was comfort himself with the idea that Ada would get to him eventually. She was only playing, teasing, and it had played to his favor that she was always so sexually ferocious that she’d never been able to contain herself. It meant Henry never had to wait, she’d get down to business swiftly. But now he received nothing, for there were others in place, and fear crept into Henry. Fear and discomfort, over being replaced, tossed aside, someone else found. The fact that he was her official slave had now become a comforting thought.
Ada stooped forward with her torso, trying not to move too much and disturb everyone. “You two, the foot bitches.” She shook her feet to punt them off and get their attention. She arched her feet forward. “I want you to focus on this one particular part.” She pointed to the underside of the big toe, right under the nub and slightly outwards, where the second toe often touched against. “You’re going to lock your mouths in on this part and work there. I had an experience there once, and it’s a sweet spot of mine.” Ada gave Henry eye contact alongside a taunting grin, lighting up his lonely corner by the leg of the cupboard with her first bit of attention since being worshipped. “I call it the H-spot.” With that, she leaned back, and the two older men tried to follow instructions by wrapping their arms around her big toe and aiming for the spot.
Henry tried to think. The look she gave him, the way she said it, the H in H-spot being a clear reference to Henry, what was he supposed to know?
The memory returned. As they locked their mouths onto that soft, outer portion of her bulbous big toe and sucked, and how Ada reared her head back and moaned out loud in response, her legs shaking, the scene came to him, that night when Henry and his friends escaped from Ada’s body. Henry initiated the escape by doing as she wanted, and what the two men were doing to her big toes had been Henry’s move back then. The deep kiss, the way the lips locked onto the soft toe like suction cups, Henry had pioneered that. Ada was now shaking to the attention brought onto both her H-spots, falling back on her elbows, electricuted with pleasure. The frustration rose in him. These two were mere amateurs. Leeman’s mouth was pathetic, the suction was supposed to be far more aggressive, like an attempt, albeit impossible, to suck all of her doughy toe flesh into the mouth.
“Goddammit…” Henry whispered. His manhood was screeching for touch. There was nothing but pure marble floor around, he couldn’t touch it with anything. The way the inner portion of her big toe yielded to their touches, it made Henry think of the potential. Back when he’d done it, she had trod on forest ground for days, she’d literally walked on him, and even then he had considered it soft and yielding to his mouth. Only the lord above, or the lucky sons of bitches currently at her feet, knew what heavenly taste they offered now after a proper cleaning. Those ointments and creams had likely buttered those toes up to melt like a piece of the clouds between their lips, the tongue free to press and explore its swirly expanse, for it would yield to the gentlest touch, yet simultaneously one could never subdue and beat its impressive size. A strand of drool literally escaped Henry’s lower lip, and he noticed how taut the rope to the cupboard was, drawn to her like a moth to light. He backed off and tried to snap out of it, not wanting Ada to see his delicious defeat.
“Ah, FUCK!” Ada yelled, catching everyone by surprise. Perhaps it was Ben stepping out of bounds and entertaining himself as he masturbated and rubbed his manhood against her pussy and her wanting to interrupt it, or it was mere coincidence, for Ada’s right hand went to the muscular one worshipping her pink lips. She grabbed his legs, breaking his flow, and he couldn’t voice a single complaint beyond the reactive grunt before she plunged him into her pussy. Only his ankles stuck out. Another deep moan came from Ada, amplified by feedback from her two H-spots. With the busy hand Ada adjusted her grip on his ankles and with the other arm planted her elbow behind her to lean on. She drew him out of her pussy, slow and slimy, then cautiously eased him back in. After a couple of test-runs assured she had the right hold and precision, the madness came.
Ada pumped him in and out ferociously. The prop flied in and out with a blur, completing several exits and entrances before one could even count a second.
“Keep… fucking… worshipping,” Ada hissed, pushing the words out between clenched teeth, for the props near her thighs were stunned and at a pause, watching in horror at the kind of tool she had turned him into. A stick to pleasure her pussy, that’s all he was. They tried to ignore the rapid rhythm of several wet slaps per second, and return to worshipping. The muscles in Ada’s forearm were tense, her amassed wetness along the pounding making splatters of cum eject every now and then. Inevitably, the drops would end up on her thigh, and Michael collected the drops with his mouth eagerly.
Ada’s orgasm came fast. It was as if the waves of pleasure from her pussy and H-spot merged to produce electricity, zapping her body with spasmic pleasure. Ada’s moan suggested pain rather than delight as it warned well of the coming squirt. It shot out in recurring jets, the stray discharges spraying on the props trying to worship her legs. It made sense now why the muscular one had been chosen for her pussy, as his bulk and size meant he filled her up nicely.
The cum was pooling in a long stretch down between her legs. Henry wished some of it reached him. He eagerly wanted a taste. But no quantity or explosiveness could compensate for how Ada leaned forward, the low angle of her squirts shooting straight into the marble floor and carving a stream of it up between her legs. It didn’t look natural, and Henry thought she might do it purposely to leave him dry. She might know Henry was so desperate he’d jump at a taste of her cum, and she denied him even a tiny accidental drop his way. Henry felt his shell coming off, all pride stripped off, as she’d read him cleanly.
Leeman and the other old prop’s endurance was impressive. During all her violent, orgasmic shakes they held onto her big toe, even with their legs clamped around her sole, and unfailingly delivered stimulance to her H-spot. Perhaps they knew that the better they did and the faster she got over her peaks, the quicker this would be over with. But on Ada’s finale, as she screamed out loud, echoing in the marble room, her toes flexed forward and smushed their heads in between their doughy clamp, and their arms and legs lost grip, now hanging by the head like ragdolls from the vicegrip of her toes. Ada collapsed backwards, the toes releasing them so they fell down. The muscular prop was left inside her, the rest still between her legs. Some of them stared slackjawed at the stream of cum between her legs, amazed at the sheer quantity she’d put out. It didn’t surprise Henry too much. He and his friends had been one of the first to experience its unending volume.
A few scatters of it had gotten near him. Henry walked towards the drops of her cum, salivating at just the scent of its somewhat sweet scent beginning to perfume the air. His manhood was raging, he needed something. But alas, the rope was too short, and even as Henry got on his knees and spearheaded his mouth forward, the pinnacle of pathetic display, he couldn’t score a touch of her nectar which the other slaves had the luxury of bathing in.
One of the slaves, Michael was his name, kept worshipping Ada’s thigh while the rest were gathering themselves. With each kiss on the inside of her thigh he moved closer to her pussy, bloated from containing another human, and he chanced a few kisses at her lips. Ada stirred. Her feet fell down to cover the two old men who’d worked on her H-spot, and then her legs closed in against each other. The unsuspecting props in between were knocked off balance, startled, and before they got a grip of things her legs caught them and closed them in towards the middle, over the stream of cum. They were sandwiched. Ada rubbed her legs against one another, not too harsh, still tranquilized from the orgasms. Her feet clapped together to get the old men too, all eight of them clamped shut by her lower body, Henry and the prop in her womanhood excluded. The sandwiching continued for a short time, everyone rode it out. Michael, the most subservient of the props, kissed her thighs as much as he could. Then, her legs parted, leaving everyone on the cum-drenched marble floor. A few grimaced and moved away, trying to wipe their hands before realizing there were no trousers nor shirts to wipe them on.
Ada rose up to her feet, wearing a drunken smile. She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead and adjusted her hair behind the ears. Those damaged eyes tried to find Henry, but it was unlikely she could make out the details on his face. She surely wanted to see his pathetic state, his leash tightened, his pulsating manhood desperately wishing to receive her attention.
But her attention returned to the props gathering themselves around her. Without command or warning, her feet moved, targeting the props. Neither stomps nor kicks, Ada punted them lightly with her toes, knocking them off their legs.
“Isn’t it enough?”
“What are—” Their complaints were pithy and died quickly, no lingering demand to know, remembering the situation. Her toes grabbed someone’s leg and dragged him onto the biggest accumulation of cum, a smooth and slimy travel across the marble. Then it punted someone else to his location, and like the dirt swept towards the dust pan she shuffled them towards one spot. A few of them sat up, a few of them remained lying down, wearing unhappy faces. With a wet splash she stood astride them, hands on her hips. For a moment she only stared at them with her broken eyes, biting her lower lip, drinking in the sight of them. A silence followed, everyone awaiting her next, twisted move.
With the wobbly movement of a penguin, Ada pulled her feet in towards one another, squeezing the eight props in between. The props’ naked bodies smushed together, not much space left to give and returning resistance to her feet’s advance. But Ada’s thigh flexed in response, abducting, applying even more force to thoroughly pancake them. Most of them were being compressed, but two props were slipping out from the ends like the filling pressed out of a bun. Henry didn’t expect her to let them slip out, and she didn’t. Ada turned a straight right, planting her feet on the two new ends which, if paired with their previous position, would have completed a square around this pathetic clump of cum-soaked men. Her feet shepherded the two stray ones back in and compressed the props again from a new angle. With sheer force she tried to shape them into something new, take these eight humans, these eight heads, bodies, sixteen legs and arms, and fit them into a space that shouldn’t be possible. The slippery cum made it all a lot easier. Her feet bulldozed their helpless bodies together into a lump akin to some deranged artwork of end times, where sanity and human worth was gone. Their complaints became directed at one another, someone’s knee shoved into another’s back, elbows poking, chins digging.
Peace arrived as the squeezing stopped at last. Though it was horribly short-lived. They could barely enjoy the lack of pressure before those with heads directed upwards saw the knee rising, the foot leaving the ground, and a large sole hovering above them. The last thing they saw was a young woman’s entranced face, her right hand massaging her pussy, and the great, soft sole coated with cum descended upon them. They’d been compressed together so well, her foot was longer than the entire lump, beginning at her arch and ending at her toes. At first, the ball and toes touched them gently, grazing over the surface of heads, legs, and arms. But as much as they explored, they were also aiming. Light pressure was applied at one location, then else, almost like a doctor searching for pain points with their patient. Then, she stood on that foot. Loud groans, curses, hollers, and grunts were pressed out of them, and those who had a free mouth were soon shut out as the other foot arrived and planted itself on the remaining portion. Ada literally sunk a visible distance as her full weight squashed them, her feet competing with them for the sparse space their collective lump dared to occupy. Her toes wriggled gleefully over them, curling in and resting on top of them possessively, arms and legs and heads being rubbed in between the toes.
She raised her heels and focused all her weight onto the balls, and their hollers and grunts were cut off, so thoroughly pancaked that their mouths and muscles had no room to operate. Ada’s hand found the ankles of the prop inside her pussy and she played with him again, though not with the same haste as before, all while directing her weight onto the eight humans.
She seemed to reach a point again and Ada stepped off the lump of humans, their stupified faces unresponsive. It seemed as if they were made of rubberb by how much her feet had been able to shape and compress them. Ada squatted down, one hand on the ground for support, and now the pace to the masturbation went up, pumping the large prop in and out above the lump. Ada ground her teeth together, a short moan, and although it was nowhere near the previous eruption, a few bursts of squirt shot out and drenched the lump of eight props. A few of coughed and spat it out, but other than lazy movements of the head as if one had been woken in the middle of night and tried to return to sleep, they showed nothing.
Ada stood back up and shoved the prop into her pussy again, his resting spot. She took one long, airy, exhale. Henry thanked the heavens; Ada was walking towards him. He backed away, his head craned up and expectantly watching her like a dog before its owner. Her feet slapped the marble floor in wet spanks due to all the cum.
Ada stopped right before him, watching him with her wounded eyes, getting to study the details of his desperation. She smiled, hands on her hips. Henry took one hesitant step forward, Ada didn’t budge. Henry ran up to her left foot and threw himself at the row of toes before him, licking, slurping, and swallowing her sweet-tasting nectar which they were drenched in. As he did so, he humped maniacally, hands still bound, and found a good angle against one of her toes. So sensitive, teased, and greedy was Henry’s raging boner that his orgasm arrived in two thrusts. He kept thrusting, powering his ejaculations, moaning pathetically. Henry humped one last time, then collapsed onto her foot, and instant regret washed over him.
He wanted more. That was what he found when he explored his regret. It wasn’t the regret of succumbing to her games, of fulfilling his duty as her slave. It was that he’d wasted his orgasm on something so quick, fleeting. Henry wanted more. He rolled over to meet her foot and gave it a couple of kisses. Ada’s other foot came and the big toe brushed his torso in short, continuous strokes, petting him.
Henry wanted more, but it was fine. He would have all the time in the world.