“You’re probably used to just sitting back while the woman does all the work, pumping that greedy little cock between her feet, while you relax. Now, does that sound very gentlemanly to you, Samuel?” Rachel questioned rhetorically. “I should think if you were looking to get your rocks off, courtesy of some gorgeous lady’s feet, you’d want to show your gratitude by putting in some effort! Well, now’s your chance to make up for all those times. I’ll be accepting your efforts on all their behalfs. Does that sound good to you?”

            Sam blanched. She couldn’t possibly be about to give him the precise thing she was punishing him for wanting. Right?

            “I can’t hear you, squirt!” Rachel called. She gave her foot the slightest of nudges forward, then retracted it, but in that one swift motion, knocked Sam on his back.

            “Sounds good!” he shouted uncertainly.

            “Of course it does, you sicko. You’ve been praying for the chance to do this ever since I shoved you inside your favorite new clubhouse this morning. Now. We’re going to see if we can get Samuel Junior Junior to tell the truth, since you don’t seem too keen on it yourself. Come closer to my foot. Until you’re touching. Do it now.”

            Too frightened of testing her again, Sam did as instructed. Soon, he was standing against the plush, muscular wall of her heel, with his face and his member in full contact with Rachel’s skin. Trembling, and anxiously aware of just how thick Rachel’s heel was compared to the rest of her already-intimidating foot’s underside, Sam felt himself reaching the peak of his lust.

            He’d wanted to feel Rachel’s foot pressed to his dick throughout the entire legal ordeal. Every single meeting, every office consultation, every day in court, he’d yearned to get those luxuriously soft soles on his manhood. Now that it was finally coming true, the horrifying circumstances unfortunately weren’t able to diminish his sexual enthusiasm.

            “That’s it,” Rachel said encouragingly, her voice growing flinty from deep in her throat. She knew exactly what she was doing, and was thoroughly enjoying the unpeeling of Sam’s dignity. “Now give those hips a shake. Don’t you dare touch yourself with your hands. The only thing it’ll be touching is this foot you covet so highly. Think of this as your reward for entertaining me so much this morning.”

            Sam didn’t waste time; half out of fear of reprisal, and half out of horniness, he started to thrust. While it wasn’t quite as cushy as he imagined it might be if those pink, doughy soles were being used instead of the tougher baseline of the heel, Rachel’s foot was still getting the job done.

            It was rather pathetic in Sam’s mind. She was right, of course; he was usually laid out in his desk chair, while the woman did all the work. This was just degrading. He was literally humping a wall made of warm, smelly foot flesh. And the worst part was, he didn’t necessarily loathe the experience itself. Only the bitchy, sexy, insane giantess who was making him do it.

            “Oh, I think the polygraph is picking up some useful information. Keep shaking it, squirt,” Rachel chuckled. She clenched and waved her toes, rippling the sole canvas again, though her heel remained still aside from the vibration of her laughter. “C’mon, now. Put some feeling into it. This is what you wanted all along, isn’t it? You must be almost there. Let’s see some teeny, tiny fireworks!”

            Was she out of her mind? What was it she even wanted now? Sam couldn’t imagine. She was putting him through the wringer, threatening his safety and sanity for lusting after feet and using a little leverage to get them, and yet was granting that wish for him now. If anything, she was giving him no option to opt out. If this was a lie detector test, she had a gun to his head at the same time.

            Sam moaned, more than a little drained, and staggered meekly to his knees as he climaxed. The end was scarcely pleasurable, in light of the situation and his exhaustion from earlier. Crumpled back into a fetal ball, he shut his eyes and awaited whatever judgment came next. It wasn’t like he could change anything by looking Rachel in the eye, post-orgasm, and trying to convince her he was still his own man.

            “Good boy,” Rachel said cheerfully. She slid her heel away from the inch-tall man, off the side of the desk, but still kept her sole poised hard against the smooth glass edge. Inevitably, Sam’s eye was drawn to the phenomenon of the translucent desk gently impacting Rachel’s yielding sole flesh, turning it pale again and winnowing it to a flash smear-shape, like matted-down clay, while the rest of the surrounding skin remained hearty. Abruptly, the giant woman’s toes hovered just two inches above Sam’s head.

            He watched them dance, wriggling and faux-snatching in his direction, without being able to reach. For an instant he considered ducking, or even running, before reminding himself for the umpteenth time how stupid that would be. Powerless, Sam awaited as Rachel gradually lowered her foot down, pivoted on the spot where the desk’s edge gently bisected her sole. When her toes reached the spent little man, he was docile enough not to struggle or dodge as the largest two digits separated, making room. Sam was jammed between Rachel’s big and second toes again and cinched on his sides, making it easy for her to lift her lithe ped off the desk entirely, with the curled-up victim still packed between the fleshy shafts of her digits.

            “That was a good talk, squirt. Excellent progress. I think you show some real promise in terms of learning where you fall in the pecking order,” Rachel said as she crossed her foot over her knee.

            Sam quivered, too afraid to move for fear of falling out, or worse, incurring a tighter pinch from the woman’s fragrant, punching-bag-esque toes. He wondered if she meant it, even in her own twisted way, or if she was just fucking with him.

            “So, now that you have some new things to think over while you’re down there, we’re going to put you back for some more quality time with your favorite part of my body. I mean, really, doesn’t it just seem polite to cuddle a little with something shortly after you wagged your cock at it?” Rachel taunted. She lowered her foot closer to the floor, but instead of re-inserting her foot into the shoe, she paused.

            Sam could see the dark mouth of the leather pump from here, and was almost antsy to get back inside, if only to end the hellish anticipation. Why didn’t she just get it over with?

            “But you don’t have to worry about getting bored. I wouldn’t want you to get complacent with your favorite place inside my shoes, after all. So we’re going to change things up a little. Get ready.” Rachel’s hand reappeared in Sam’s sight, coming between her curled-up toes and the distant shoe below. Once the little man got a glimpse of what she had hanging from her fingers, though, he re-considered the pros/cons of trying to wriggle free from her foot’s grasp again.

            Rachel spread the nylon lip of her nude stocking wide. She stretched it over her toes, Sam included, and let it hug tight to her arch as the fabric mouth rode all the way up toward her thigh. The nude fabric turned more sheer every inch it rose, until it was practically invisible, yet the little man wedged inside and grappled between the lawyer’s toes was certainly more aware of the garment than he’d ever been in his life. It felt silly to have not noticed it at first, now that the netted material was binding the little incher into the pliable orgy of wriggling, bucking toes.

            Sam did his best to stretch a few fingers between the cold, damp fibers of Rachel’s stocking. He could feel the iron tension in them, and knew his chances of escape were once again squelched. Not only was he imprisoned now, he was tied down like a mental patient.