Time-Out: Nancy's Way (Chapter 14)

Scott had been forced to massage a gargantuan foot literally uncountable times throughout his life while said foot was simultaneously standing on him, but this was the first time he’d ever sincerely been thrilled by the task. The gridlined rings of her toeprints, the supple beefiness of each digit segment, and the notable quantity of briny gym-sweat wrung out of her skin at the slightest squeeze were all the unexpectedly novel pleasures the lad found while awkwardly yet energetically working his puny hands across this narrow reachable portion of her foot. In reality, nothing was different about this specific experience from the endless number of other occasions when he’d had to aggressively fondle someone’s toes. But after whatever foot-devout madness had been unlocked in his brain yesterday by Nancy’s carefully-curated dominion over his shame and sexuality alike, this once-tortuous activity was made disgracefully enjoyable for Scott. And in tandem with his busily-caressing hands trying to soothe the woman’s toes after exercise, the little fellow obediently opened both his lungs and his lips to the offerings of these grody, unwashed, saltwater-slathered, torridly-hot, richly-smelly feet.

Absolutely exposed in every possible way, a naked one-inch-tall Scott freely allowed his easily-perked hard-on to be cooped tautly between Nancy’s digits, while raking his palms across the mushy perspired landscape of her sodden foot flesh, inhaling that rank mealy sock-pestilence odor as hard as he could, and burying his tongue-flicking mouth against the burliest saltiest toepad he could find. This should’ve been torment. It should’ve nauseated Scott to his core, terrified him, and made him feel inhuman contempt for his lowly wants. So why then was it so heavenly? He hardly even noticed the transition point between Nancy sitting in her car and working the pedals with him sandwiched between her stiletto insole and splayed toes, and now marching about again wherever her required errands would take her. Unlike usual, though, Scott found he neither knew nor cared to guess where they were headed right now. The world outside of Nancy’s high heels didn’t have to matter to him. His only concern, until she gave him a new direction, was to use his whole little body as fervently as possible for the relaxation and ego-inflating adoration of the only feet on Earth he’d ever been taught to love being pressed below. Horny, focused, and smothered all over by both Nancy’s dredged-up sweat and that cheesily broiled-leather scent, Scott let himself melt singularly into his given task.

The first hour rolled blissfully by, or at least the shrunken shoe passenger guessed it was around that long, even though he had no real way of gauging the passage of time in here, let alone held any care for it. All that mattered to him for the time being was comfortably smushed down on top of his little body and activating a simultaneous flow of multi-dimensional sensations through his nostrils, lips, palms, and genitals that he previously never would’ve imagined successfully arising from the most degrading foot-related activity of his often-miniature existence. But here he was anyway, quietly and humiliatingly having the time of his life. Scott’s experience below the woman’s prodigious shockingly-erotic foot was measured only the heady huffs of her dingy toe-crevice musk, the tongue kisses across that grimed sock-residue texture, and the rhythmic implanting of his member amidst those luxuriously closed-in walls of quaggy digit flesh. At no point yet in today’s walkabout had Nancy bestowed any kind of focused effort to taunting or pleasing her tiny not-quite-victim with her foot, or at least not that he could tell. Every controlled and pounding step on top of him was much like the last. She simply did what needed to be done up there in the “real” world, while passively chaperoning Scott in the most distant and yet intimate of ways, and making him feel more obscenely devoted to this worshipful practice as a mere byproduct of staying in her underfoot orbit.

In some sick way, Nancy’s nonchalant detachment from what she was doing to him– letting her natural sole-scrunching toe-pumping strides enslave the one-incher’s senses rather than some determined sweaty-lubed molestation – felt dirtier, crueler, more-mortifying, and above all, apparently left Scott feeling tenfold more turned-on. She didn’t need to put effort now into reverentially and sexually enthralling the little creature, and maybe even scarier for him, perhaps she never truly did. One thing was certain: the experienced giantess couldn’t have provided any better proof of her total subjugation over her young prey than by purely stalking around town while the boy was nakedly flattened beneath her pithy toes, and still extracting such a randy and ardent reaction from him. Scott had no defense. And all he could do was keep licking, sniffing, and hugging himself against her damply fragrant hotboxed skin, until at last he jolted and pitifully shivered through inevitable micro-orgasm. It snuck up on him, even though he’d been completely hard practically from the moment she inserted him into the navy-hued high heel, but because at least an hour was spent building up to this moment, the shrinker’s gratification was riotous. It caused Scott to spasm like an epileptic while passionately clamping his jaws into the underside bulk of spongy toepad like a mutantly-gigantic peach, until his offering was drained – at least for the moment – into that squelchy pocket of space between the giantess’s busily-grinding digits.

As usual, Nancy was in no way bluffing when she’d promised today would be worth her one-inch stiletto inmate’s while, if he only endeavored to service her foot with every meager part of himself that he could. Even still bittersweetly assaulted from all angles in the dark heaving air-void and cramped nude below the giantess’s softly bludgeoning toes during the afterglow of his release, Scott had no choice except to acknowledge that this was an even better climax than the last one she’d haughtily provided him yesterday. Every part of the little guy was rendered alight with tingling lustful verve. Since he’d just gone at least an hour without letting up on his exalting behavior, and he’d been given “permission” to take breaks as needed prior to being selfishly in-shoe stamped, Scott decided to cash in one of those respites to go gratefully limp below Nancy’s voluptuous-soled enormity and ride out the rest of this hypersensitive burst of foot-engaged euphoria. This lapse in service seemed to be all right with the giantess, too, as she continued traipsing about the city and quakily compacting her dutiful inch-tall attendant into the pliable wet under-curve of her toes, without pausing to discipline him or remind him of his responsibility. Nancy was just as confident as Scott was that he would keep on obeying her whims, adoring and inhaling and essentially eating-out this microcosm of her humongous ped, just as soon as he could physically handle it again.

Now, he had a few moments of relative-peace to gather his stamina again for the next bout of steamy alluring toe-lapping depravity. And Scott could feel the harsher intellectual reality of what was happening here in this fateful shoe finally beginning to catch up with the lewd animal-instinct immediacy of physically debasing his shrunken being at the foot of his former middle-aged attention-obsessed nemesis. A line had been definitively crossed here, and there was no chance of reversing their course. Yes, it was possible still that Nancy would keep this lascivious enemies-with-benefits evolution of their relationship secret, and the little thing’s shame might never become known to the world outside the tightly-tailored hull walls of her shoe. She was close with Judy, yes, and had always told her best friend everything – including about the first time Scott had accidentally paid literal lip service to her foot during that wine-drenched meeting between a circle of overly friendly giantesses, among other fouler acts she’d committed against him. But if there was any chance that the shrinker’s mother would see this perverted potentially-fetishistic shift between her greedy friend and her miniscule son as going too far, even by Nancy’s racy standards, Judy might just restrict such private underfoot rendezvouses in the future.

Which Nancy, and Scott, definitely didn’t wish to happen. They both were too deep in this now.