Chapter 1: Meet Rachel

Rachel watched– her body recumbent with either leg past her haunches clad in rainbow ribbon high-socks, raised and akimbo. Her beady, jade eyes flickered to and fro as she intently regarded her two three-inch captives, garmented in crude, gladiator-like attire, trading blows in a skirmish of depraved consequence. It was a game Rachel likes to play where the event provided entertainment and the loser… sustenance.

    One slave was on the offensive, forcing the other to shrink back as he relentlessly struck his opponent’s shield. The defender opened his guard in an attempt to stage a counter blow– but to no avail. His opponent grunted and thrust his shield straight into his face, disarming and sending him back a few inches­– to them, a few feet. Bloodied, bruised, fatigued and now dazed, he lifted his hand to his head and refocused his vision, only to espy the colossal countenance of his self-proclaimed goddess and deity of death.

    ’Tut, tut, tut­– remember,‘ Rachel intoned playfully, opening her maw and revealing the saliva-slicked track leading to the loser’s abyss.

    For a fleeting second, terror pervaded him, ossifying all but his eyes, as strands of spit adjoined to her mouth’s base and tongue begun breaking; a gentle moan claimed his earshot as she curled her snaking tongue upward; letting out a sensual moan, she slithered it slowly along her upper lip, imparting the skin above the silken, ruby object with a tenuous lustre, before snapping shut her mouth in predatory fashion, catching a strand of her dark brown hair in-between her teeth inadvertently.

    Realising the gravity of his predicament, he recomposed himself, spun and found his dagger timely as his opponent, spurred by the prospect of extricating himself from a grim eventuality, lunged. He deflected the blow to a clang and launched an offensive himself.

    Her skittish mirth quickly turned to scolding rage born from impatience and a belly wanting ’Argh! C’mon– I’M HUNGRY!‘ Rachel pouted and pummelled her fist down, sending a tremor through the ground.

    ’Rachel! Dinner!‘ cried Rachel’s mom, Sandy.

    Rachel rose groaning; her slaves looked up obediently to their colossal goddess for directive, longing for a respite.

   ’Did I tell you to fucking stop, hmm?‘ She thundered scornfully and volleyed a glob of spit straight at the combatants.

    Before they could react, the orb of phlegm struck them with force, enveloping both in sticky, viscous goo. Recovering, they both retook their arms with rapidity lest they fester their goddess' ire further. Once again, they were too late: before their blades had reacquainted, the expanse of Rachel’s giant, rainbow-clad foot descended upon them, pinning them momentarily and affording them a brief whiff of a day’s worth of acrid foot sweat

    ’How does it smell, hmm? I bet you it smells like the soiled sock of the teenage goddess who is about to snuff you out.‘ She husked, forging a deviant smile from her own words. Then she lifted her foot and stamped it down, biting her lip and relishing the euphoria as their pathetic, inconsequential bodies crunched and popped and their muffled screams of agony tapered satisfyingly into silence as their existences became but mere stains pulped onto the bottom of their queen’s sole.