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.”