Time-Out: Nancy's Dominion (Chapter 2)

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   The meaty heft of Nancy’s smooth crease-divined sole rested against Scott’s inch-high body with just enough force to keep him snugly secured as though he was pinned beneath a mattress, even though it just as easily could’ve felt heavy as an eighteen-wheeler truck. While the boy’s naked frontside was pressed up into that firm yet squishy ceiling of arch flesh, his back was splayed against a hardier floor of tough leather sandal insole material. Baking heat and mildly filthy atmosphere abounded. Further on ahead, well out of Scott’s reach, the giantess’s toes jauntily flexed and scrunched in a manner that constantly reanimated the texture of her sole, as if to the beat of an unheard song. While above, she chatted merrily over the phone with someone her shrunken guest had vaguely determined to be a cousin, based upon the fragments of cheery conversation he could pick up. Of course, he was a little too distracted by his current task of providing a massage to this plush epicenter of Nancy’s sole, using his whole energetic little body as a kneading tool, to actually hang upon every word she was saying above. That conversation up there didn’t have anything to do with him, anyway.

Instead, Scott was content to mechanically writhe his limbs against those pithy arch wrinkles as they changed, bucking his hips and hungrily smearing his open mouth against the woman’s humid skin, while his tongue hung lazily from his lips. Nancy had been wearing these sandals most of the afternoon, and her skin not only stuck clammily to the leatherbound basin of the shoes, but had also adopted much of their distinctive damp cowhide aroma. And since Scott was sandwiched so densely between claustrophobic surfaces of sole and sandal, it felt like he was trapped in an air vent built to exclusively pipe a concentrated dosage of that exact sweaty leather-spicy reek. Prior to his arrival at Nancy’s house for this ever-lengthening stay, his previous half-lifetime of being stuffed into the shoes of arrogant warm-footed giantesses would’ve allowed him to tolerate the smell and numb himself against any unpleasant reactions. Now, though, Scott wasn’t just enduring. He was living for this. He breathed normally, and if anything sniffed hard enough to tank his lungs to capacity with the muggy salty flavor of his hostess’s foot cooped so comfortably in her sandal. Goose bumps prickled over his skin and his cheeks salivated all the more, which only further encouraged him to keep rhythmically thrashing his arms and licking at every skin cell he could reach.

After an hour straight of this treatment, even considering the obscene magnitude of Nancy’s entire sole piled atop her inch-tall audience rather than just a few toes at once, Scott’s head was swimming and his loins were throbbing for release. Unlike those few accursed occasions in the past when he’d felt his biology unintentionally activating after some uncomfortable roughhousing by an overzealous overseer, there was no accompanying rush of dread to make him feel more nauseous than turned-on. Rather, Scott embraced that tingly thirst, letting it inspire him to worship more dutifully, while his incriminating erection was quashed proudly against the vast plain of Nancy’s toasty sole flesh. The woman didn’t skip a beat, either in her phone conversation above or in her foot’s reflexive sole-remapping, as she helped him follow that inspiration. Barely a minute later, Scott spasmed and anointed that clamped-in arch wrinkle with the seed of his devotion. But he knew better than to stop for a break then, nor did he even want one. So after only the briefest gasp to catch his breath, he reapplied his tongue to the flavorful terrain of Nancy’s foot with even greater vigor. The day had only just begun.

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            “Green light,” Nancy announced from her throne on the sofa, with her eyes glued to the television, as it played back whatever drama-packed reality show she was bingeing to unwind this week. She picked up a piece of popcorn and tossed it into her lips, gnashing softly with her mouth open, and in time with those spoken words, the toes of her right foot began to dance again. They scrunched and splayed, grappling and curling and squeezing, which made this otherwise innocuous gesture quite an event for Scott himself, considering the naked one-inch lad was currently strapped across the underside of Nancy’s second and third digits with pieces of thin ribbon, with his crotch nestled conveniently against the empty divot in between them.

Neither of the giantess’s feet had reason to move except for that frenzied clamp-fest by her toes, as she kept both unshoed peds resting comfortably atop the coffee table. But because of Scott’s position, it felt like riding a roller coaster that had just jumped the rails – it didn’t quite hurt, thanks to Nancy’s controlled technique, but left him rather dizzy. Even more affecting was the fact that, upon proclaiming those two simple words aloud again and resuming her toes’ playful manhandling of her shrunken guest, his groin was treated to another rapid flesh-pumping round of toe crevice chaos. It was hectic, but as always, felt fantastic. And just like he knew she was expecting, once Nancy said those words, Scott went back to kissing and lapping upon the rotund underside of the same sizable toe which was simultaneously smothering itself like a moist pillow around his whole head with every scrunch. The fragrance from the giantess’s feet wasn’t quite as potently stuffy now, considering she’d had them reposed bare upon the tabletop for a whole hour now since kicking off her clogs, but because she’d made sure to tie her charge in such a claustrophobic toe-to-face posture, any diminishment in atmosphere was basically cancelled out. He still inhaled every remaining drop of salty stagnation and couldn’t have been gladder about it, even if this “game” was beginning to wreak havoc on his senses. And that’s exactly what it was, at least to her. Just a game.

“Red light,” Nancy abruptly stated more than a minute later. She still didn’t tear her gaze away from the TV, nor did she lean forward to make sure Scott heard this edict. But even more than her speech, the sudden halt of her fondling toes left a distinct impression upon him. Suddenly, Nancy’s feet came to statue stillness, as she fed herself another popcorn cluster and snickered under her breath at the events unfolding onscreen. Nothing below her ankles moved.

And that went for Scott, too, as he obediently shut his mouth despite the temptation to keep licking, while his madly stimulated privates were left frustratingly untended, simply resting in the open cleavage of his hostess’s taunting toes. His chest heaved, his temple perspired, and his heart still pounded from the carried-over sexual momentum of the “green light” period. But still all Scott could do about that for now was try semi-successfully to catch his breath again while his body remained in unhelpfully close contact with the pillowy leather-tinted bottoms of Nancy’s naked toes. She’d told him earlier, while tying him to her foot with those ribbons, that she expected him to follow the rules of the game very strictly, or else there would be harsh consequences. That meant, while in red light, he was to remain at a total stop, with no appreciation paid to her foot either by his mouth or his member. Deep down, Scott knew that the woman’s twinkle-eyed threat of consequences was more of an erotic joke. But still he listened to her anyway, even while he desperately wanted to continue worshipping the woman’s deserving toes and his crotch stung from incompletion. Not because he believed she’d actually punish him for defying the red light, however. Such was the pathetic intensity of the boy’s indentured dedication to Nancy and her feet now that he would gladly conform to whatever arbitrarily taxing conditions she devised for him, so long as she desired it.

So Scott just gritted his teeth and rode his way through a borderline case of blue balls, still loopily discombobulated from that last dance. He listened passively to the reality show antics somewhere out of sight as well as the sound of the giantess’s popcorn munching, though all he could see from here were the intricate grid lines and curves making up the peachy soft-bellied turf of Nancy’s up-close foot flesh. The heat, the aroma, and the sensation of her skin pressed against his all called Scott in their own languages, beckoning him to keep tonguing whatever musty span he could reach and buck his own hips until his arousal was satisfied. But he didn’t. Nor was there even really a danger of slipping up. Nancy had trained him too well. And there was only one type of language he was authorized to obey.

“Green light,” she said after a relaxed sigh, almost like an afterthought, more than five minutes since pausing the game again. That period had been particularly challenging for Scott to endure, as the previous red-light repetitions were mercifully much shorter, and usually only went on for thirty seconds at worst before her gigantic toes relented to keep on grabbing and stroking at their inch-tall voluntary captive’s nudity.

For a moment, Scott had feared that she’d forgotten about the game, if not forgotten about him down here altogether. Which wouldn’t have been the craziest thing in the world. Others, even his own mother, who made a habit of keeping the shrunken delinquent at their feet for extended tenures (like Nancy had been doing for unbroken weeks now) had sometimes become so engrossed in whatever else they were doing above that they literally lost track of the downtrodden naked embarrassment-riddled young man they had crumpled beneath their toes. Not Nancy, though, it turned out. She just wanted Scott to squirm a little before the game played onward. Just because she could. Invigorated by that kinkily humiliating realization, he put his all into worshipping again once he had permission, while his junk was gratefully smushed into that narrow fleshy gap astride the giantess’s toe flanks. Credit where credit was due: Nancy’s edging ensured that this finish was going to feel especially gratifying for her lowly slave. Maybe ten more seconds, and it would be over.

“Red light,” Nancy intoned, just as offhandedly stoic, but there was a hint of devilish humor behind her voice. She knew exactly what she was doing.

But no matter Scott’s crushing disappointment, Nancy’s toes went stock-still right on cue, while his whole body irritatingly throbbed from desperation. He couldn’t help but wince hard from moderate vertigo and his body’s own defeated letdown. Scott’s head was spinning, his jaws were tired, and his whole midsection was grievously sore from lack of follow-through. Yet even then, he couldn’t help but enjoy the mixed blessing of this befuddling moment, in a way he truly never believed he could even tolerate (let alone crave) any variety of shrunken subjugation at the monumental filthy feet of his various all-too-gleeful caretakers. Then, taking Scott wholly by surprise, Nancy didn’t speak another word, but simply gave her toes a single prolonged scrunch. That final damp puffy-skinned pump was all it took to make the inch-tall boy writhe in his ribbons, letting out a satisfied grunt that was largely stifled by the meaty bulk of his colossal babysitter’s second toe, as he surrendered a climax that had been achingly drawn out over the course of nearly a whole hour. Which, considering the record times that the giant cougar had recently proven herself capable of extracting from her easily turned-on plaything, was quite a while indeed. Spent, at least temporarily, Scott’s body went limp again against the sideways-inclined curvature of Nancy’s invitingly musky toes.

“Uh-oh!” she drawled as if surprised, and flexed her digits over him again. Nancy disapprovingly clicked her tongue and tsked at Scott, then, in rhythm with the faux-disciplinary curling of her toes. “Well, well, well. Seems like somebody just couldn’t follow the very simple rules of our little game! Even though I specifically told you what would happen if you didn’t play fair. What a shame. Guess Auntie Nancy is just going to have to show you that she means business, huh? I wonder what kind of punishment would be appropriate. I could give your mother a call and ask her for some advice. After all these years, she must be overflowing with good ideas. But, something tells me you’ve learned to learn and grow all the better from the way I fix you. Even better, dare I say, than her. So, we’ll just take care of this ourselves. Let’s see… oh, I’ve got it. How about I leave you tied up down there to my toes, so you can keep on doing what you do best, while I slide my pretty feet right back in these warm toasty slippers down here? Does that sound fair to you, hon? Give me a lick if it sounds fair. Yes, that’s what I thought. Now, truth be told, this was more-or-less going to be our plan for the rest of the evening anyhow, but just go ahead and pretend that this is a punishment for you instead of a reward.”