Work From Home (Chapter 12)

Carl was yanked forward, knocked off his feet, and dragged several rug-burning inches along the shaggy carpet terrain, then found himself pulled to a stand again. Only by balancing on tip-toes did the shrunken man create enough slack in the thread-noose to keep breathing regularly. Not nearly fit enough for a challenge like this, Carl stumbled like a drunken ballerina back and forth in whatever direction his giantess wife’s carefree foot chose to point and drag him. He had to take breaks, as it was impossible to hike himself up like this indefinitely, yet every time Carl let his ankles relax, the string pulled harder, and he couldn’t breathe. As a result, the man had no choice but to spring after Tamatha’s mammoth ped while it pitched in the air, taking turns choking himself on the stocking thread and tiring out his pudgy legs. He was just lucky his wife kept her rounded heel pressed to the ground, since it was hard enough to keep up already just with her sole picked up off the floor; if her entire foot was to become airborne, Carl realized, he would be hanging like a loose bead off her stocking, and surely dead of asphyxiation before she even noticed what she’d done.

As Tamatha continued animatedly chatting into her webcam, reviewing documents and trading info with the caller, her shrunken husband was led on a wild life-or-death ride just a few feet below. Pure adrenaline alone kept Carl from blacking out as he chased desperately after the motion of his wife’s foot on tip-toe, using that cut-out strip in the center of the stocking sole like a lighthouse glow to predict her next motion. He kept his bleary gaze dead-set on that sweeping line of bared skin, just as luscious and rose-orange and naturally luminous as he remembered from the last time he’d taken Tamatha’s appendage in hand for a rub-down. In truth, it had been quite a while since he’d examined her foot from close up, which was a large part of why he was paying the price in such dire terms now.

Over time, while the Skype call dragged on past half an hour, Carl slowly got the hang of hobbling in the correct direction before his stocking-string leash could close his airway for too long. Incredibly, the sight of his wife’s upturned foot acted as ironic motivation, with her thick heel driving into the carpet and her toes squirming and cavorting under the gossamer-twinkling mesh garment, while that thin window to her sole within offered such a beautiful glimmer of the raw, high-arched, brawny power of that humongous foot. Yes, it was the very thing tormenting him now, and really as an independent entity given that Tamatha’s attention was entirely devoted to her business-related video chat, but it also spurred him forward. With his every dirty secret now made public in the family, Carl had nothing to lose in obeying his deepest whims and pursuing every sight of that luxurious sole he could.

Still with the knowledge that his wife’s heel leaving the ground just might snap his neck, he longed to draw nearer to that exposed strip along the stocking’s underbelly, and touch her again. Even with his oxygen strained and his view secluded to the base at the altar of that foot, there was no question in Carl’s mind that Tamatha’s foot was the larger, denser, and stronger compared to their younger daughter’s, which had already put him through the wringer yesterday afternoon. He owed her ped his utmost respect.

Around an hour into the Skype call, perhaps because the fates had grown bored with Carl’s relative complacency in this tricky scenario, Tamatha’s heel left the floor. Her dinky husband watched it hover off the ground, her entire foot rising while her leg moved to cross fashionably over the opposite knee. Once that foot had launched away from the rounded flat impression in the carpet she’d spent so long pounding down, Carl knew he had but a fleeting half-instant left to enjoy blue-faced partial breathing, before the stocking thread around his neck turned into a gallows. He swallowed, savored the moment, then was catapulted into the air in the direction of Tamatha’s ascending foot.

The force might’ve indeed snapped the little man’s vertebrae, if not for the subtle softness of the thread cushioning the blow just enough to keep Carl wheezing for life. In midair, he flew toward Tamatha’s sole, now angled sideways where she’d chosen to perch it across her other leg. He was fine for now, but knew that the second he started falling again and the rope pulled tight, he would hang like a pendulum, then would spend his last seconds of consciousness looking up at his wife’s beefy looming arch and her tremendous visage through the sunlight-spackled glass above. There were worse ways to die, he supposed, but it wasn’t what he wanted just yet. He desired to remain in the thrall of Tamatha’s holy sole for as long as his fragile body allowed.

Springing, the thread yoinked the half-inch husband straight toward the lavish object of his wishes, in all its colossal wrinkly glory. Holding his breath, anticipating the neck-breaking full-stop, Carl spread out his limbs, then as he passed by the open strip running along the bottom of the giant stocking, grasped for purchase. Against the odds, his focus and great need to remain in the orbit of Tamatha’s foot allowed him to latch on with both hands and legs. As his only chance had come directly over the cut-out stripe in the stocking, which from afar might’ve looked like a design pattern in the garment, but became much more tactile up close, Carl clung on with his hands on the upper flap, while his legs twisted in the lower, meaning the snipped window in the nylon that exposed the naked sole-meat inside was laid directly across the middle of his body, allowing Carl the extra handhold point of his panic-erection inserting nicely into a particularly rubbery crease in the arch.

The noose stayed looped round his neck, but because the string was allowed so much slack, Carl could finally re-inflate his lungs all the way. Of course, his thankfulness for that fact was only achieved in a trade-off for solid ground, since it was now only his feeble grip on the customized stocking, while Tamatha’s foot hovered the equivalent of hundreds of feet from earth, that kept Carl from falling. With the woman’s ped slung vertically across her knee, and in no way supporting him, it was up to the shrunken fellow’s fortitude alone to hang on. He hugged himself closely into the violet-aromatic fabric of the nylon, burrowing his face and thrusting his hips, more in a bid to create life-saving friction than to hump, though it had that effect anyway, and his terror once again comingled with arousal while his dick massaged Tamatha’s creamiest flesh pleat. The string would offer no help, either. Though the little man knew nothing about rock climbing, and wouldn’t have had the stamina or build for it anyway, he understood this was like scaling a mountain with a supposed-safety harness that would counter-intuitively ensure death if he lost his hold.

“I suppose we should wrap this up soon. That covers all my highlights,” Tamatha said into the webcam. “And I’ve kept you long enough already!”

“Oh, it’s the other way around. You wouldn’t believe the number of phonies I run into in this business. This conversation, though has been very enlightening, just like you promised,” Ms. Perkins said. “Though, I think we ought to talk next-quarter projections. Why settle only for the here and now, when there’s still money on the table? That’s what I say.”

“Hey, if you’ve got the time, then I certainly do as well,” Tamatha affirmed, only getting cheerier the longer the pleasant conversation lasted, her smile and general tone not betraying an iota of the perilous mortal dance happening so effortlessly below her. “Please, show me what you’ve got!”

With her tiny husband now nesting against the underside of her foot again, the woman’s only apparent acknowledgement of his closer presence came from her sole’s slow methodic swing, like a metronome, rotating her ankle by differentials of just a couple inches, but creating a frightening range of motion that made all the difference in the world to her spouse. Like a condensed version of the sexual torture he experienced under Blair while she walked on him, each concentrated pulse of Tamatha’s sole, flaring out then scrunching back in as it weaved, Carl found himself again and again pulled into the soft, almost-sticky embrace of her sole along the strip, then pushed outward to gravity every other second.

It was a sick waltz, always finding Carl either magnetized to the floral nylon and ruddy skin, or nearly propelled to his untimely bone-snapping doom beyond. With the nylon ballooning gently from the momentum, and the sample stripe of Tamatha’s arch gradually turning slick with a micro-sheen of sweat, Carl had to tighten his knuckles and bury his head in the cloth to keep from losing his grasp. The moisture and ever-so-slightly heated conditions of the woman’s sole helped lubricate his miniature cock, of course, but in all other respects made it more difficult for Carl to keep himself from plummeting. He wept and groaned, now from exhaustion just as much as conflicted sorrow, though after Tamatha’s foot got him back in the groove, his seed soon flowed in greater quantities than his tears. She was turning his dick into a faucet, drawing just as much pain from his sore instrument as she did his shrunken loads now, yet Carl dutifully provided, like the animal she’d made him out to be. If extracting cum after cum from him in some small way helped lessen the considerable debt which existed between them, the disgraceful little creature had to admit, then who was he to debate Tamatha’s repayment method?

“That wraps up everything I have on-hand,” Ms. Perkins said, after another long-winded back-and-forth between the two. “I’ve got a good feeling about your work here. I’ll be in touch again soon. Count on it.”

“That means a lot, Barbara. I’ve got plenty more on my plate now, but I think it’ll all work itself out,” Tamatha said. “I’ve just recently had a shift in my routine that I believe will reflect very positively on my output.”

“Well, if you think you can improve even more upon what you’ve got going here, then I look forward to seeing the results. And I understand better than most how important a comfortable routine can be for productivity. It’s the little things.”

“I will do my very best to make you glad you chose to work with me. I’ll talk to you later!”

Tamatha clicked the Skype window closed, then leaned back in her swivel and sighed to herself, needing a breather after being so professionally “on” for more than an hour, yet obviously satisfied with her performance as well. Despite her happiness, though, the woman did nothing to indicate she meant to alleviate her husband’s struggle staying aloft upon her foot. If anything, she’d sped up the swing of her ankle, reaping the benefits of a continuous restorative lotioning applied along the naked stripe of her stocking, and snatching Carl’s member in a new wrinkle each time her expansive sole bent and remolded its shape.

Tamatha’s attention was now freed to devote herself anew to goosing her prickish husband’s humiliation with some verbal potshots as well as the physical brutality of dangling off her foot. At least that’s what Carl expected, steeling himself for a hail of cruel words from his wife above, while she let him be sapped of his remaining energy by jacking his pathetic frame against her sole to the point of unconsciousness. So far all she’d done to verbally acknowledge his existence after turning him into a tiny hangman was coo with relaxation at his unwilling works, oohing and ahhing with something close to affection, not for the man himself but for his numerous uses as a living tool. Surely, he guessed, he was due for some hellfire and wrath. However, before Tamatha had the chance for such fun and games, her phone buzzed on the desk surface. Examining the screen first, she smirked, then picked up the device to answer.