Little King (3)

The door shut loudly in the early hours of the morning at the top of the mill. Rebecca kept her eyes closed while she listened to her husband’s footsteps creak along the wooden stairs down to the functional part of the mill. Their living quarters were in fact a small, eight-square-foot space at the very top of the village mill. Below her, she could hear the steady grinding of the heavy stones, perpetually pushed by the river beside them. She could still hear her husband as he climbed down past their living area to the ground floor. 

The 24-year-old woman lay spread on the lumpy, hay-filled mattress, protected from their sharp ends by only a thin sheet of cotton. She was lying on her clothes, using them for a little more comfort, but meaning that she was completely nude. Her bare, tan body was slim, from years of working in the fields with little to eat. It was only a year ago that she had married the miller, and been able to eat like a wife, rather than a child. She had put on a little weight, and to her delight, it was on her breasts. 

She raised her head, her fiery-red curls tumbling onto her shoulders, as she blinked away her sleep. Her pupils widened as her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the windowless attic. She remained silent, sitting up and listening to her husband fiddling with tools below until she was certain that he was not coming back upstairs. 

Rebecca knew that she had at least an hour before he would come yelling at her to get to work. She sighed as she thought of how disappointing their marriage had already become. She thought that the handsome miller would stay as romantic as he had been during their courtship, but the intimacy he had promised vanished as soon as the wedding band had slipped onto her finger. 

Rebecca was a red-blooded woman, and she had been extremely unhappy early on. Luckily, she had found a solution, or rather, one and found her. She turned to her side and pulled up the sheet on one corner of the mattress. Without looking, she dug into the hay until her fingers met something that moved. She pinched the creature between her index and middle fingers and withdrew it. 

In a fluid motion, she raised the minuscule, limp body of a naked man. His hair was a mess, stuck into odd shaped by a dried film of fluid. Not even an animal could have told the tiny man apart from Rebecca, as her scent so totally encased him. 

She had found him while walking home from the market in the rain, sheltered beneath the uprooted wood of a tree. He had been so small, and so weak, that Rebecca simply couldn’t leave him outside. He had been so cold, and Rebecca had panicked, worried that he would die if she didn’t warm him up quickly … so she had put him in the warmest place on her person. 

The feeling of his tiny shivering against her pussy had been like nothing she had ever imagined possible, even better than sex. Who could blame her for keeping him? After all, he didn’t have a life on his own, and she even fed him scraps every few days when she had the chance. She was doing him a kindness, as most tiny people didn’t survive too long without protection. 

He gasped loudly as he sucked in fresh air, then groaned as he felt the deep gashes on his skin. The hay was far sharper against his delicately thin skin than his giantess captor realised, and even the air stung against him. He raised his head weakly, exhausted and starving from almost a week without food, and the only moisture coming from when Rebecca had “accidentally" spilled some water on the mattress. 

He looked up at her face in the dim light, plain but pretty, and grinning from ear to ear. She winked at him and giggled silently as she began to lower him down long her naked body. The man tried to protest, raising his arm, but he was already out of her sight. Her head tilted back and her eyes closed as her hand carried him down past her breasts. 

The humungous woman’s abdomen was visibly lean, and even the tiny man could see the jutting ridges of her pelvic crests forming a funnel towards her loins. As he passed her belly button, flecks of hair started to become visible on her otherwise smooth skin. The bright orange-red strands were sparse to start with, but became more and more dense as her hand carried him fruitier down along her. The strands congregated to form a thick forest of hair by the time he reached the giantess’s sex, and in the dim light, the tiny man gazed upon an impressive sight. 

Rebecca’s lean thighs were spread apart and opened up to her crotch. Two thin, pink lips formed a wide, oval opening beneath her, and within was wall after wall of pulsing, sopping wet flesh. The scent of her pussy was overpowering, but the man was more than accustomed to it. In fact, it was little more than an extension of the smell that coated his body already, a mix of womanly lust and unwashed sweat. 

The goddess’s hand held him so close to her that the man could almost reach out and touch her, but her didn’t use him yet. Rebecca felt the tiny breaths of the minuscule man against her sensitive pussy, and it was turning her on like nothing she had ever imagined before. Finding the tiny creature had started a sexual awakening in the red head that eclipsed any dream of what she had thought pleasure was, and now she was hooked. As the excitement grew inside her, and the tiny man began to wonder when he would be used, she abruptly thrust him into her skin. 

His naked body made contact with the warm wall of Rebecca’s inner lips and was instantly soaked in her juices. His face was pressed into the soft skin and it sank, along with most of his head. Instinctively, he tried to turn his head to free his nose and mouth, to breathe. He heard the goddess moan as his struggles sent tiny waves of pleasure through her body. 

She held him against her with two fingers as her other hand slid up her body to her breasts. The giantess grabbed her left nipple and squeezed it, whining sensually as she applied a little more pressure to her captive. The man felt the increased force, as he was pushed deeper into her groin, the hot, wet flesh swallowing him up. His lungs were starting to burn now, and his efforts to breathe were getting more violent, more desperate. His whole body was shaking now, in a mix of panic and pain as the scratches on his skin burned as it was lathered in the acidic vaginal juices. 

He felt his body move in a a circle, being rubbed against the giantess’s sex. A firmer part of her struck his head, sticking out slightly more than the rest of her. Rebecca yelped silently as the little man flicked against her clit, sending a shock through her. She kept him moving in a circular motion, stroking her most sensitive area with ever increasing pressure. 

The man’s vision was beginning to fade as his chest screamed out for oxygen. His thrashing limbs were intensifying, and the giantess was getting more and more turned on by it. Her legs started to writhe as the anticipation grew and her throbbing pussy started to contract as she neared climax. The man was spinning faster and faster now, his body thrown around like a rag doll against her lips. His head was pounding from the force of his torment. This time was worse than ever before: she was rougher with him. 

Rebecca was moaning regularly now, her breathing rapid and deep, the pulps of her fingers were white as she crushed the little man against her. He was groaning as he felt her powerful digits against his back, but was powerless to resists them. Rebecca’s finger slipped slightly on the soaking surface. She barely felt the movement and continued pleasuring herself, but the tiny man certainly noticed. The titanic woman’s nail twisted sharply against his elbow and he felt a sharp pain as his joint shattered under the pressure. His breathless scream was swallowed up by her pussy, as he was rubbed against her, his flailing, broken arm dragging behind in agony. 

Rebecca suddenly felt the sexual electricity ramp up in her loins and her whole body shook as she tipped over the threshold. The tiny man was on the brink of death by suffocation by this point, so was hardly thinking clearly enough to be aware when a final, violent thrust from Rebecca’s immense middle finger shoved him inside of her. The force pushing against the middle of his back overcame any resistance from the giantess’s lips, but it came at a heavy cost to her toy. 

The man’s life went out as his spine snapped at the neck and hips, and his torso was shoved into the pulsing cave of Rebecca’s vagina. His shattered pelvis and head slipped along her finger into the mess of her flooded pussy, his blood diluted and disappearing into the giantess’s juices. Deep inside her, Rebecca’s vaginal walls made quick work of the pathetic man’s corpse, squishing his organs and pulverising his bones against the goddess’s massive finger. Each throb churned his remains until the pulsating pussy wiped out any trace of his human form, leaving him as a mushy red slop on the red-head’s digit. 

Rebecca lay panting on the bed for a few seconds, sweating from the exertion but savouring every little twitch of her delicate pussy. She slowly pulled her finger out and sadly looked at the mess on them, a mix of vaginal juices and the gory remains of her little toy. She sighed, wiping the mess on the underside of the hay. She would really have to find another one, because the climax was even better when they went inside her … or at least part of them did. Who knew that shrunken people could be so useful in bed?

***

‘My goodness, isn’t Prince Etienne, just so handsome?’ gushed a pretty young girl sat under the shade of an oak tree. She was with three others, in a small semicircle, facing the castle wall where a man was instructing a boy on how to fight with a wooden sword. The girls were all dressed in fine clothing in an array of rich colours, each one a member of one of the four most powerful families in the court. 

‘And he has always had his eyes on me,’ the girl continued, brushing her strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder in the graceful manner of a minor royal. The eldest daughter of the master of coin, Christine was possibly the wealthiest of the four, and she knew it. She sat in the middle of the group and dictated their conversations with the ease of a borne leader. Unlike the other girls who occasionally looked at her as she spoke, her eyes never left the young prince, so determined was she to make him hers. 

‘He has not!’ protested a slightly taller brunette. She was slimmer than her contemporary and had more angular facial features, but her flawless skin and healthy hair betrayed her privilege. The youngest daughter of the captain of the palace guard was a fiercely competitive young woman, and she saw no reason for the prince to favour their bratty, unofficial leader. 

‘Calm down, Adria,’ Christine retorted.

‘Yeah, you can have Etienne’s younger brother,’ giggled Evianne, daughter of the minister of trade and Christine’s right hand girl. The brunette laughed at her own joke as her leader smirked at the implication. Adria glared in the direction of a maid. The old woman was seated some way away from the training prince, and on the ground before her, on a sheet no less, was the little bastard that the entire kingdom had heard about. Adria had heard the queen’s speech on every single birthday that the little creature had celebrated. The brunette scowled as she watched the little boy walking about.  

‘Eww, why would I want to be with him?’ Adria demanded. 

‘He's second in line to the throne,’ Christine shrugged, ‘What if, heaven forbid, Prince Etienne falls in battle?’

‘Well if the prince falls, then that little insect would be crushed under someone’s foot … in battle,’ Adria replied.

‘Oh, and what if it wasn’t in battle?’ Christine asked, grinning.

‘What do you mean?’ Adria asked.

‘If you dislike the little bug so much, why don’t you put him out his misery?’ Christine proposed.

‘That would never work,’ Adria replied, taken aback by the suggestion, ‘I've heard that he is surprisingly … sturdy.’

‘There's only one way to find out, right?’ Christine decided, ‘Maeve, go ask the maid to accompany you to the privy. Now.’

‘Wait … what …’ Adria started, but the platinum blonde girl was already obeying Christine’s orders. She stood up and walked over to the maid, crossing the sunny grass. The other three girls watched as the maid took Maeve’s hand and led her towards the castle. As soon as they had passed, Christine stood up. 

‘Come along then,’ she said, and Evianne followed. Adria had no choice but to rise too and follow the girls towards the ground sheet.

***

Rhancar had been a little confused when the maid had left with the pretty girl, but he was more than used to fending for himself. In fact, even at the age of 10, he understood that his step-mother’s intentions were more to stop him from escaping her clutches. He watched his brother duck under a swinging wooden sword before expertly thrusting his own blade at the trainer’s unguarded flank. The blonde boy thrust his fist up in triumph, celebrating his victory. 

The swordsman slapped his back, congratulating him. Only he knew that the victory was far from earned. The queen had been very clear, that her precious son was to develop his confidence with the sword, not skill. The man knew that she could never allow Etienne to ride into battle, so it didn’t really matter how good he thought he was with a weapon. He kept their sessions exciting, but never failed to let the little brat have his moment. 

Rhancar wished more than anything that he too could learn the skills to be a hero, but if he hadn’t figured it out on his own, his step-mother had certainly clarified the message. At his size, he was never going to amount to anything. Still, Rhancar was developing into an athletic youngster, particularly with the amount of climbing and running he had to do just to get around. He was still distracted with his brother when he felt foot steps approaching. 

He turned around to see three figure approaching. Their long dresses swayed in the wind as they walked, and he recognised them from life in the castle. As usual, the treasurer’s daughter led them, her pretty face carrying a wicked grin, her eyes locked on him. Rhancar had met them at the various dinners and balls over the years, and if once he had thought of them as potential partners, he had quickly learned that they only had eyes for his brother. He didn’t blame them, after all, he was far too small to be a romantic partner, and he had certainly been told so. 

They stopped around the sheet, forming a triangle around him. The 1-inch-tall boy looked around at the three walls of skirts that surrounded him, and then up at the faces that were looking at each other, and ignoring him entirely.

‘Good afternoon …’ he started, but they spoke over him. 

‘Well, there he is,’ Christine said, gesturing down by their feet as she met Adria’s eyes. 

‘Yeah, go ahead,’ Evianne egged her on, ‘Unless … you fancy him.’

‘I do not!’ Adria shot back, glaring down at the boy on the sheet. 

‘What are you talking about?’ Rhancar asked, but his eyes widened when the brunette started raising her skirts. He watched the curtain of fabric reveal her bare feet, the pale towers of her legs each larger than his entire body. He took a step back as her right foot lifted off of the ground. 

‘My lady … your … your legs are,’ Rhancar blushed, turning away from her, as a gentleman should. He didn’t watch as her foot rose higher, and swung forwards over him. He made the mistake of thinking that Adria cared about her exposing herself to him, as if she considered him a person. 

Rhancar dared a glance back towards her, just as the fleshy sole of Adria’s foot came crashing down from above. The warm skin collided with his face and shoulders, pushing him backwards onto the ground. The massive weight pinned him to the ground and came to rest over his body.

‘Oh my God, she actually did it,’ Christine gasped under her breath. But Adria didn’t hear her, and was determined to prove them wrong. She had only rested her foot on the little bug, feeling him struggle beneath. But wanting to prove that she felt nothing about the shrunken thing, she decided to be more clear. 

Rhancar grimaced as he was smothered by the tepid, dirt-covered sole of the giantess. His face pressed into the soft meat, and he started to panic as he struggled to breathe under her. The little stale air he did manage to suck in was heavy with the smell of Adria’s foot-sweat. He battled against her, his tiny arms no match for even the weight of a single foot. It got worse as the giantess decided to push down. 

The 12-year-old brunette started to shift her weight forwards, feeling her sole press into the tiny creature beneath it. She was annoyed that she didn’t feel a pop or a crack, but made due with the thought that the pest was suffering. She felt his puny struggles getting weaker as she crushed him and she continued to add more pressure. Her heel raised as she put her whole bodyweight onto the ball of her foot, wanting desperately to squish the little bastard.

Rhancar’s cry of pain was absorbed by the giantess’s sole as he was forced to suffer the agony of being stepped on. He squirmed as Adria began to twist her foot from side to side, crudely pulverising him into the sheet, transferring the dirt and sweat from under her foot and lathering it all over the tiny boy. 

‘Hey! What are you girls doing?’

The maid was returning from beside the wall with Maeve following her. She was hurrying towards the three girls with a concerned look on her face. Adria looked angrily up at Christine, slamming her for the poor distraction. The blonde shrugged and took off skipping back towards the tree, with Evianne following her. Adria ground her foot one last time on the pathetic body before following them, leaving Rhancar in a heap in her wake. Maeve went to join the girls as the maid stepped up to the blanket.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ she demanded, covering her mouth with her hand as she gasped. She glared at the tiny figure lying on his back, panting and groaning. 

‘Look at how filthy you’ve become,’ she scolded, ‘Now I have to clean you up, you naughty little brat!’

She bent forward and roughly grabbed him in her paw, squeezing him tightly in her hand as she stood back up. The maid hurriedly carried him back to the castle, as the four girls giggled beneath the tree once more.