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.