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.