“About time, you psycho. I swear, all you lawyers are like this, taking your time like the whole world stops for you,” Sam scowled as he was withdrawn from Rachel’s pocket between her bunched fingertips. “Where the hell are the paramedics?”

            “They’re not coming,” Rachel responded. Her voice echoed softly within the bounds of her office.

            “What does that mean?”

            “It means we have some things to get straight first.”

            “This is not a debate.”

            “Actually, it is. Do you know why?”

            “I’m dying to hear.”

            “Because I am much, much bigger than you. And until I decide you’ve earned the right to discuss your situation, let alone go free, you are in my custody. Capiche?” Rachel’s voice deepened, the boom of it resonating in Sam’s bones.

            This shut him up. The man rolled onto his side in Rachel’s cupped palm, and felt the fear returning like a split dam. The same nervous revere he’d experienced upon first seeing the woman’s statuesque body, propelled by her sixty-foot-long shoes, coursed adrenaline through his limbs.

            “That’s better. You talk an awful lot for a man who’s always at risk of getting sued,” Rachel quipped. She leaned back in her swivel and crossed her right leg over the opposite knee, pinching and pulling on a tuft of loose nylon fabric with the hand not currently imprisoning Sam. She allowed a sly smirk to cross her lips. “Now. I was thinking on the walk back in here that we’ve got some things to talk about, but personally, I figure you’re going to be much easier to teach once you’ve spent some time gaining new perspective. You know, a learn-through-experience kind of thing.”

            “You’re not making any fucking sense.”

            “Oh, it’s pretty straightforward. Don’t worry, I’ll make it nice and simple so your chauvinist pig mind can comprehend. I’m going to put you inside my shoe. Under my foot. You know, the place you just can’t get enough of? My nice, soft, pretty, sexy, giant, fucking foot.”

            Sam quivered. He tried to summon an answer, but no words escaped. Muscles tensed, stomach churning, he stumbled onto his knees. For the first time, the gravity of his situation settled in.

            “I… never… you’re b-”

            “No, no. Remember, I said no talking about it just yet,” Rachel said. Out of Sam’s sight, she popped the brown heel off her foot with a quiet thunk, and cradled it in her palm. “First, you go under my foot for a while. Then we see where we stand. I mean, I’ll be standing on you, but after that, we’ll see if you’ve grasped the moral of the story. Good luck!”

            “No!”

            Rachel’s palm tipped over the maw of the shoe. Subtle heat and leather-odor wafted invisibly from the opening, perking Sam’s senses even before he rolled off the end of the woman’s giant fingertips. He made a feeble effort to grab onto the metallic husk of her middle finger ring, but missed, and tumbled the short drop onto the felt hillside of the heel’s insole. Clawing at the spongy black span, he slid halfway down the decline before he gained enough traction to stop. Hand over hand, he mustered the energy to scale up another quarter-inch. In the surrounding darkness, he peered blearily up at the portal to the world outside Rachel’s shoe.

            “Well, where do you think you’re going, little guy?” a voice teased from on high.

            And then he saw it. For a fleeting second, Sam’s heart was in his throat at the visage of Rachel’s approaching foot. With the glint cast through the window and filtering through the woman’s naked stocking, her svelte lower leg and long, supple foot were set alight. Her toenails were painted just as uniform and black as her fingernails. He was mesmerized. What it must feel like to have such an elegant arch massaging his hard-on?

            That notion was quickly dispelled for the more immediate danger of that beast of a foot entering the shoe. Light squelched from the opening as Rachel’s toes flexed against the basin, her joints popping softly. Nylon swished against the insole as her foot raced after Sam. Though he clung desperately to his position on the slippery hill, the pile-driving bulwark of those five fleshy toes netted through the stocking bulldozed Sam down like stray dirt. He rolled helplessly, pushed along by the blunt force trauma of Rachel’s foot. She dusted him down into the shallows of the shoe, right at the pointed toe, with the same effort it would’ve taken to swat aside a stray pebble.

            “I hope you didn’t think you were going to climb back up just now,” Rachel chuckled. Though her voice was now filtered through the walls of the shoe and the meaty foot separating her from direct communication with Sam, her booming timbre carried. She leaned over her foot, still crossed above her knee. “I mean, honestly. Didn’t you ever learn anything about physics in grade school? A pitiful little force like you wouldn’t have stood a chance against something so much bigger, especially if I’d been trying. Which I wasn’t.”

            Sam was wedged firmly into the fuzz-prickled acute inner curvature of the brown heel. At a measly one inch, he was easily pinned sideways, his spine bent slightly to the sway of Rachel’s burgeoning toes. The mass of each toe alone outclassed him easily for weight, strength, and speed. With more than one, he had no chance of fighting back. All it took was two of her middle digits and their bulbed tips pressed up against the micro-man. The doughy skin of the ends seemed to swell just a little larger already once compressed for space and heat. Nylon netting against Sam’s face and hands as he fruitlessly tried to resist.

            “Just settle down, now. I have some work to do, and I’d prefer to do it in peace without having to worry whether or not you’ve knocked yourself out,” Rachel instructed. She rotated her ankle in soft circles, and tapped her fingernail on the husk of the heel, to ensure he heard loud and clear. “You’re not going anywhere for a while. I told you already, remember? So you might as well hold still and conserve your energy, because you may want it later.”

            Sam squirmed for a while longer before finally giving in to her suggestion, and going limp. The longer she talked, the more of a true lawyer’s spirit Rachel displayed: uncompromising, straightforward, and competitive. Sam might have admired those traits if this were any other scenario. But as it happened, she was showing off those traits whilst jamming him down inside her shoe and sandwiching his helpless body between her beefy toes and felt-lined heel interior. Thus all he could summon was rage.

            “Listen to ME, bitch! You let me the hell out of here NOW. Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with here? Do you… d-do…”

            At the very least, the woman had the courtesy to stop fighting him with her toes once he surrendered to her strength. Yielding as a wet noodle, Sam focused on trying to find temporary equilibrium until he could figure a way out of this damned situation. The rounded tip of Rachel’s middle toe was pressed up against the lower half of his body. It numbed his legs and had his crotch pinned. Meanwhile her second toe, wedged tightly by its neighbor thanks to the taut stocking, was smushed just as provocatively against his upper half: his chest was squeezed slightly, restricting his airflow, and covering up most of his nose and mouth in the process.

            “Yes, that’s it, now. Relax,” Rachel encouraged. At last she lowered her foot back to the floor, and set her shoes equidistant on the carpet. Making herself comfortable, the woman clicked on her computer to work. “We’ll both be much happier if you just go along with this, and trust me, the happier I am, the happier you’ll be.”