In a very general sense, you could call my relationship with Mistress Fiona “ornamental.” I don’t have much practical purpose, and she keeps me around because she derives pleasure from my presence. There’s a certain aesthetic to my service that simply appeals to her.
Of course, sometimes you could call me ornamental because I’m a mere 4 inches tall and Mistress Fiona often quite literally wears my Lilliputian body as a decoration.
Today, she used me as one of the straps of her sandal: lying flat along the top of her foot, I was stretched face down, my head toward her toes and my legs toward her ankle. My arms were bound, pulled forward by the taut chain of a necklace that had been repurposed to bind my wrists. The chain completed one end of Mistress Fiona’s human strap by passing between her toes from the sandal’s insole to me; a similar chain bound my ankles together, looping around my Mistress’s much larger ankle. This arrangement held me just securely enough to ensure that my body could keep the sandal from falling off, but no tighter. I wasn’t stretched to the breaking point, but I could move only slightly with the chains pulled around my limbs.
My head lay just short of Mistress Fiona’s toe cleavage: close enough to be able to admire her graceful, gorgeous toes and her smooth, artistically painted nails, but far enough that I could only stare longingly. She had done this on purpose, knowing how much I love her feet and knowing the gentle but overwhelming taunt she was giving me by placing me as she had. It occurred to me that this was like the punishments given out by the capricious gods of Ancient Greece: tailored, perfectly and ironically, for the mere mortal in question by the passing fancy of divinity.
It’s not the worst analogy I could have come up with. After all, Fiona is – for all intents and purposes – my Goddess. Ever since she shrank me, she dominated my life to such an all-consuming degree that she could, quite simply, crush me flat without even knowing. She wouldn’t ever do that on purpose, but the difference in power between me and her was intoxicating to both of us. She loves the role of dominant but benevolent giantess, who teases because she knows her tiny pet man will worship her all the more intensely for being teased.
That’s how I ended up strapped to her foot, with no freedom of movement and only able to barely wiggle atop Fiona’s foot. Of course, bondage and feet combined are a potent combination, and my penis hardened as she went about her day, bouncing an erect pinprick into her skin with her every step. A giggle like distant thunder rolled down to me when she felt it.
“Oh, is my little pet enjoying going for a walk with me today?” My face down, I could only imagine the satisfied smirk that I knew was on my Goddess’s face. “If you keep up the good work, sandal boy, maybe once we get home I’ll let you and my foot play around a little bit more.” She wiggled her toes, making them dance for her captive – but very willing – audience.
Like I said: intoxicating.
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