They worshipped Mia’s body with a far gentler energy. Slave One and Two weren’t tasked merely to stimulate the intricate touch-scape of her pussy, but to lap away at the liquids she’d discharged over her thighs. Slave Three and Four, in a similar spirit, were less intense at her breasts. The departure from climax wasn’t a return to normal, but a slight dip to a sustainably heated state, and they would stay there for what she planned to be hours.
Garrick and Martin were free to lap away at her toes again, and so they had to. Harry was left inside her, having been thoroughly fucked by Liza before and now the primary ragdoll of Mia’s adventure. It became increasingly clear to Garrick and Martin that this, perhaps not initially planned, coincided well with Liza wishing to punish the trio. It couldn’t be a coincidence that he and Martin were delegated to her dirty feet, the toes now cleaned to their credit, and Harry was getting hammered. All the while, the rest got to feast away at the velvety preciousness of her most intimate parts. Liza must have instructed her to give the worst of it to Garrick, Martin, and Harry.
The door opened. Liza stood with a plate of refreshments, wearing a unique, short dress Garrick hadn’t previously seen. It was rose-red with a pattern of emerald flowerheads, not crossing the thighs in order to reveal her rounded legs, its slimness giving a fit trim to her enormity. Her hair was tied into an elaborate bun held in place with golden pins, and around her feet she had silver anklets, a series of hearts linked together.
“How are we doing?” Liza was radiant, moving towards them, and the splendor she carried drew all eyes to her. Garrick saw those two, pale, shapely feet clap their way towards them, remembering the feeling of those soft wrinkles and toes on his tongue. They were far preferable than the set he was currently tasked with.
Then it hit him. The preference for Liza, as if interconnected with a hinge to another realization, made him see what was happening. If, as the slaves had mentioned, Liza had been frustrated at the slaves’ liking for that particular customer, the sweet and beautiful Gloria, then Mia was sure to produce the opposite effect. The thin guard was more travelworn, rough and uncared for, her skin tougher, the feet harsher, her tits smaller, her legs plain and straight, and with a bitterness about her expression. That Liza barged in with all her splendor was a reminder for the slaves of what they had, now made effective with a contrast. Mia was inferior in all departments. However dim, the wandering thought of preferring to be at Liza’s feet made Garrick see how practical it all was for Liza. She got to satisfy a friend and customer who helped cover this whole business while also teasing her slaves and refreshing their appreciation for her.
Looking back, Garrick saw the slaves’ eager stares at their Mommy, so stupidly unaware of what was going on. Though if that passing thought hadn’t snapped him out of it, Garrick might have fallen into the depths of Liza’s manipulation as well. Although not at the level of the other slaves, Martin also took in the sight of Liza as she neared them. Garrick wished he could whisper his own revelation over to his friend. Now he could only place his hopes of there being enough mindfulness in his friend to escape the moment himself, though the entranced stare he gave Liza’s feet wasn’t promising.
“Apologies for the mess,” Mia said, tilting her head to glance down at the stained blanket between her thighs.
“Oh please, sweetheart.” Liza waved away with her free arm. “You’re here to be spoiled. Make as much of a mess as you want.”
Garrick knew what to do. He turned around and commenced, not simply where he’d left off, but with a greater passion than ever. The kisses he gave Mia’s third and fourth toe were manufactured to look as close to genuine love as possible, traveling inwards to make out with chunks of her flesh at the balls of her feet. The rough texture wasn’t as malleable as the tender expense of Liza’s, but Garrick soldiered on. If the purpose was to make them wish they were with Liza again, Garrick tapped into his pool of stubborn rebelliousness, left untouched for so long, and ran straight to the opposite direction. He doted upon Mia’s foot like he’d never done for Liza, he would make her the new Gloria.
“Here you go.” Liza handed her the plate of refreshments. Garrick couldn’t tell if she noted his performance, he closed his eyes and dedicated all attention to the task ahead of him. Mia gave a satisfied hum, though with the murmuring tone of a filled mouth, likely having eaten from the plate Liza brought. There was a bit of silence.
“He’s good,” Mia said. “I thought he was among the disobedient ones.”
“He is.”
Garrick didn’t stray from his task of making out with her second toe. The spotlight was on him.
Mia chuckled. “Maybe there’s some magic in me that gets the good boy out of him.”
“Maybe. Don’t forget what I told you, however.”
“Of course.”
“Then I shall leave you to it.” Liza left the room, closing the door after her.
Mia clapped her hands together. “Alright, let’s move on.”
***
Garrick thought he’d seen most things during his time captured by Liza, convinced there wasn’t much left to surprise him. But the worry crept up in him as Mia made her preparations. They consisted of tying two slaves, One and Two, onto her breasts, their mouths by her nipples. Three and Four were tied to her feet, stood upon with their heads between her toes. This was nothing new. However, she extracted Harry out of her womanhood for the next part, and he looked barely conscious for it, though he didn’t need to be.
Harry, Garrick, and Martin were tied together. Garrick’s ankles were tied to Harry’s wrists below him, and subsequently Harry’s ankles were tied to Martin’s wrists below him. The trio completed a three-linked chain with Harry being the middle part and Garrick at the top, depending on how she held them. Right now, she held the end of the rope holding Garrick’s wrists, his two friends suspended below him, and the large naked expanse of her abdomen was before them.
“The rest of you, lick.” Her toes and nipples received the tongues that were in demand, making her quiver. “You won’t stop until I tell you.”
“Yes, goddess!”
Mia bit her lips. She peered down at her human chain, her eyes passing Garrick and moving down to his friends. “This idea struck me a week ago. Finally, there’s no one to stop me.” She stood with legs wide apart, bringing them against her pussy. With her left hand holding Garrick, who constituted the top of the chain, she reached behind with her free hand and tugged at the bottom end, holding Martin’s ankles. She pulled him back, through between her legs, as if they were a delicate fiber and the opening between her legs this enormous eye of a needle it needed to wind through. Both hands tugging opposite ways, she stretched them taut underneath her.
Harry was the one staring straight at her gaping pussy, and as she pulled them up, he was headed straight for it. Mia didn’t stop pulling when Harry’s front slotted in between her lips. She smothered him into it, pulling tighter, and the whole kinetic chain of Garrick’s body felt the pull. It was like a torture rack, or it would have been if his affinity for magic didn’t protect his body. Garrick’s body was up beyond her belly button and Martin was in between her asscheeks as she stretched them upwards. Harry received the brunt of the force, mashed into her pussy.
Though she had no plan to keep it that stagnant, something her worrying grin indicated. The human chain moved backwards, Martin up her ass, Harry sliding along her pussy and between her cheeks, and Garrick down her abdomen to take Harry’s place underneath her. Garrick could feel the sweltering heat touch his legs first as he made contact with her clit. There was no stopping his manhood from reacting to the caress of womanly softness as he slid further down. The stopping point was when his head was right before her clit. This was foreplay.
“Goddamn it,” Garrick muttered. Up the stretch of her abdomen, he saw the two pathetic slaves tied to the little mounds that were her breasts, lapping away, Mia’s excited face staring down at him. Garrick turned his head as much as he could, to the bottom, seeing the other two being stood upon and still kissing her toes.
“What am I, slaves?” Mia said.
“You’re our goddess!”
“Our beautiful mistress!”
Mia pulled with the front hand. Garrick slid back up, faster this time than the way down had been. He went higher than where he’d first been, bringing Harry up and letting Martin, the bottom link, be the one strung up against her pussy. They’d all gotten their turn.
Without warning, Mia yanked behind and up. Garrick shot down, squeezed into her wetness, but enjoyed it no more than a fraction of his previous stay before her front hand yanked him back up. And so a cycle was established, the three of them used as a towel she was wiping across the bend between her legs. The tautness of their ropes was retained, Mia kept the rope tight alongside the alternating down-and-up cycle. Their bodies dug into her flesh, the lips of her pussy happily parting for them in their blitz-like passage.
Harry got the worst of it. In the middle, he barely got to surface out to the tips of their cyclical U-shaped course, always in contact with her flesh. At the ends of this pussy-rubbing towel they’d been made to, Garrick and Martin at least got flashes of respite when the tug-of-war brought them to the top of their respective ends, enjoying a brief moment out of the depths before they were swiped back down. It was a vortex of heat, compression, joints stretching, and a wet pussy.
Soon, and surely with help from their devoted, worshipping peers, the swipes developed a slimier tone. The bodies of the trio would rip loose a few droplets every now and then, pattering on the floor, but most of the wetness gathered onto them. Mia bit her teeth together, huffing, fists clenched and forearms tense as she swiped faster, pulled harder, taking their elasticity to its limits. They were objects.
“Slaves, tools…” The words were hissed out. “Look at you pathetic little things!” She laughed and moaned interchangeably, a hysterical cackle. Garrick lost sense of time and space and the feeling of her flesh, all erased by a blurry vortex of heat and compression. The extent of his control was to grimace his face shut, but even then a bit of liquid found its way into his mouth.
Mia lost balance, teetering forward. With a jerk of her leg forward, she caught herself, a blink of serenity for the boys. Legs wide apart and them still under her, she hobbled over to the vaulted bench and leaned her head against it. Stooping forward, Mia left room for her arms to move and resumed the wiping of her lower parts.
They were being punished, the three of them specifically. It had to be directions from Liza. Garrick would give anything to be returned to a humble worship, and that feeling had to be Liza’s goal. In this explosive, pent-up lust Mia unleashed on them, they were supposed to develop a liking for Liza, an appreciation for what they had.
Mia didn’t merely swipe but began moving her hips, thrusting into them. Somehow, the weight and pressure increased, Mia leaning into them more. Her scream marked the apex of her climax, a guttural, animalistic screech. Garrick didn’t register the details of what followed, it was one long haze of getting embarrassed. She’d lay the three up across the vaulting bench and hump them, a time Garrick remembered as the tension finally easing from his limbs as he got to lie down for once. She would swipe them later again, across her bottom like before, her ass, around her thighs, waist, everything. During all this, the other four slaves were putting their mouths to use, and the orgasms were plenty.
The calm settled long after morning. Mia napped with Martin inside her, Harry and then Garrick sticking out of there like some tail hanging out of her pussy.
Liza opened the door and smiled at the scene. “Dinner’s ready.”