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Time-Out: Nancy's Dominion (Chapter 4)
🕑 Added 2025-04-09 13:00:04 +0000 UTCJust as expediently, not even having to think about what he should do (let alone whether he “wanted” to do it), Scott got back to work. He licked and sucked and nibbled within the rugged blackness of that closed-in shoe, with his head masked under weighty mature-yet-feminine foot flesh, and his crotch already getting pleasurably squinched by those intuitive micro-squeezes from Nancy’s other digits. Still somewhat out of breath from the body-surrendering workout of that earlier flip-and-slide inside the giantess’s slung-down heel, Scott knew she could feel his heartbeat pounding through his chest and possibly throbbing through his upraised member. But hypothetical exhaustion, as usual for this month in Nancy’s care, was cancelled out by his dogged determination to please her, and be pleased in return. Even though it had been close to an hour now since his caretaker even took a step, her spirited toe-scrunching sole-wrinkling activity while she kept one leg crossed above the other was sufficient activity to keep the conditions in here particularly squalid, in all the best ways.
Nancy’s foot wasn’t merely dewy with perspiration now, but outright layered in it, as if she’d rubbed viscous ointment all over every skin cell of her peds before planting one atop Scott’s inch-high nakedness. It was lubricating enough that her shoe passenger might have begun slipping like a scrap of fallen soap beneath all five of those oiled toes, if she didn’t press down and grapple his midsection with a precisely calibrated degree of force to keep him right in place, but not inflict any discomfort on his tuckered little body. Scott’s cheeks and taste buds tingled as he worshiped, creating the same sensory awakening that resulted from taking the first bite of food after a lengthy fast. It was like a new strain of alcohol had been invented, only twice as addictive. Salty gritty miasmic pore fluid entered his throat, making its mark in the same way of carbonation swallowed too quickly, but he didn’t mind. If anything, it encouraged Scott to lick harder, until his jaw went sore and his face was stuck so close against the wet hot plushness of Nancy’s toe shaft that he had to crane his neck back again, just far enough to gasp for life again. Having spent a whole half hour getting turned on by the roly-poly anarchy of the giantess’s heel suspension games, even while he didn’t want the current fun to end too soon, a rapid conclusion was inevitable, so long as that squishy sweat-logged vice of her digits was grinding so busily upon his privates. Scott felt like he was being shot from a rocket in the most bizarrely erotic fashion possible, as the euphoria stretched through his extremities and his limbs spasmed to the irresistible pull of those magnetic toes.
Yet even then, she wasn’t done with him for so much as a minute. Often, especially after such a complex lead-up to the latest underfoot finale, Nancy would grant her puny toe-screwer a healthy refractory period to regain his stamina and get back in the mood for another round. He was only human, after all. But that wasn’t so this time. Naturally spent following that climax, which was by far the most riotous of the numerous orgasms that Scott had enjoyed under her titanic soles throughout the week, he went limp and prepared to settle in for a relaxing ten-minute post-fun power nap, just like the kind she normally allowed him. Rather than melting into the sticky oxygen-cooked darkness, though, Scott’s senses were jumpstarted like a blast of ice water to the face when Nancy’s shoe pushed off from the ground again and abruptly pulled away from her foot. In a flash, she’d doffed the whole vessel out of contact, still dangled in midair. But Scott didn’t go with it. Instead, the combination of lasting pressure from that last pump-down, plus a gelling splash of her generous foot sweat, kept him adhered upside-down to the bottom of her gently curled toes, which grasped him only tightly enough to make up the difference against gravity. For just an instant, even while at a standstill and hovering only a foot and a half off the restaurant floor, Scott felt like he was frozen in time in the middle of freefall. Yet even then, he wasn’t upset, nor did his faith in Nancy falter. This, too, was perfectly all right.
Then soon after, as if rewarding his abject trust in her total control over him, the giantess’s hand cupped lackadaisically beneath her downturned foot. Not to catch him, though. At the same moment, doing nothing dramatic that would betray what was happening to anyone else around them or even the woman she was talking to across the luncheon table, Nancy raised him much higher, with Scott’s body still suctioned by perspiration and strain against her swampy toes. Rather than crossing her legs over one another, she instead rested that ankle across the opposite knee, while her foot itself reposed sideways over empty space. This time, she didn’t leave Scott to quiver and pray, with nothing but vacancy behind him. Her fingertips cinched to the boy’s hips, plucking him free from that warm soused embrace with the cushy under-flesh of her toes, and glided him back toward the puffy midpoint of her broad arch instead. There, with her thumb pressed against his back, she began to knead him to her foot in soft yet gradually-firming circles that miraculously overwhelmed Scott’s sensual fatigue.
So, in spite of every instinct telling him to relax, to shut his mouth and breathe deeply and allow his systems to reboot following that last wearying finish between her toes, the shrunken lad’s rewritten impulses instead bowed to Nancy’s desires first rather than his own even-subliminal leanings. There was no turning her down, and he wouldn’t have wanted to do that anyhow. Scott’s heartrate picked back up, barely losing any of its velocity from those final moments of the previous digit-jacking buildup. His nostrils invited in another waft of her ripened shoe-retrieved essence. His lips reopened, slurp-snogging for life and slathering his insignificant tongue against the activity-swollen patch of sole flesh she’d just assigned him to via the slow swirling of her authoritative thumb against his backside. And his reprogrammed member, losing none of its verve from the prior round, went right back to active duty as soon as the giantess began using his micro-hardness to plumb along the nearest underfoot wrinkle, only now with nothing but her thumb keeping him in place. Though sore at first, out of breath and bordering on passionately overworked strain, the little thing gratefully accepted this swift turnaround, as her fingertips massaged and tempted him against that enormous broadside of tepid leather-musky sole. He was right back in.
This was by far the most exposed that Nancy had ever left him in the midst of their salacious activities. She’d worn the boy out in public many times over the previous weeks down inside her multitudes of footwear styles. Yet until this moment, she had only briefly allowed Scott to be covertly uncovered where someone might see him, usually by quickly transferring him from out of her shoe into a pocket or her purse. Now, she was not only leaving him out in the open – with only the paltriest visual shelter offered by a restaurant booth table, under which her crossed foot was currently propped high and in possible view of other patrons – but multitasking chatting with her friend above about the ethics of a shrink-heavy American justice system, while at once engaging in the most degrading and stimulating enterprise possible with that same twisted system’s ultimate poster boy against the bottom of her now-naked foot.
In perfect clarity now, Scott heard every word of his sultry guardian’s conversation, as well as a dozen other lively back-and-forths between giant strangers mid-lunch, who all had their lives leagues more in order than himself. He felt the open breeze from the building’s AC, even while it couldn’t do much to cool him down while his frontside was still smushed so fully against Nancy’s torrid foot. He was keenly aware of the light from far overhead humbly illuminating his one-inch body, as well as every crease along the spacious slab of her sole; while at a split-second glance, his equally-nude form might be camouflaged into her skin, if any stranger looked for much longer than that, they were certain to spot him. There was nothing but moderate luck and the general lack of expectation by outsiders that now protected him from being noticed engaged, for the first time ever publicly, kissing and tonguing and sole-humping the sweaty bare foot of a woman whom he once counted as his most-hated person in the world.
But none of that same awareness, evidently, troubled Nancy in the slightest. Much as she liked to play seductively aloof, Scott knew she was wholly conscious of every word she spoke and move she made. Everything was on purpose. Nothing was done by her, specifically to him, without absolute certainty. She wanted this – the appreciable danger, the total control, the secret euphoria as she teasingly crossed a metaphorical toe further than ever over the invisible line of societal acceptability. And even more overwhelming, Scott realized he “wanted” all that too. With Nancy Dugan, of all people. So long as he remained in her clutches, rejecting all the goals and ambitions of his former autonomous full-grown life, needing only to concern himself day to day with obeying his keeper’s dominating whims and allowing her to mold him into the perfect shrunken underfoot slave, he would just continue falling deeper beneath her spell, even after Judy came back to collect him and take him home. If he kept this up, there would be no end, until he was fully hers to his core.
