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Description
In broad daylight, a figure walked through the streets of Nelrand, heading straight for the Duke's keep. They walked with great purpose, a singular objective clear in their mind. The identity of his figure was hidden by a long, brown, hooded cloak that covered the entirety of the rather slim, short body.

No-one paid much attention to this figure. The people of Nelrand were too busy going about their everyday business: visiting the market, trying to sell off their own goods, some even up to shadier activities. None of that mattered to the individual.

The Duke's keep struck an imposing view, though less so than structures that the hooded figure had visited recently. Regardless, no matter how magnificent a building looked, it wouldn't intimidate this particular person.

Guards stepped forward as the visitor approached the open portcullis of the keep, crossing their halberds before the figure to stop them.

“Halt! Who goes there!” One of the guards asked loudly, not willing to let a stranger into the Duke's property.

“A friend” A woman's voice came from under the hood “I come seeking a lady of nobility, someone going by the name 'Miss Terry.'”

Looking surprised, the guardsmen withdrew their extended halberds. “We sincerely apologise” The guard who had spoken said, bowing his head “Please forgive us. We had no idea you were an associate of the Duke's own daughter.”

“You are forgiven” The figure gave a smile so pleased at this treatment that the guards could sense it beneath the hood “Now move aside.”

Doing as she commanded, the guards hindered the guest no further, leaving her with free reign to explore the keep. Of course, there was no need for her to do so. On missions in the past, the figure had come to know the layout of the keep like the back of her hand. She headed up to the second floor: to the bedroom of Miss Terry.

Knock knock.

Opening the door, Miss Terry gave a small help in surprise. She was out of her low class disguise, wearing an embroidered nightgown. In the pale moonlight, she looked beautiful. “Hello? Who are you exactly?”

Bowing, the figure spoke “Greetings, Lady Renford. This is... the first time I've been invited into your father's residence, so excuse me if I seem a little awkward. My name is Vennis. I am from the thieves guild.”

“Oh?” Lady Renford moved backwards, allowing the thief to enter her bedroom. Vennis did so, pulling down her hood in the process. “Have you come to report the success of Mister Frenkel?”

A single, loud, mocking laugh came from Vennis. “Not exactly” A thud was heard as Vennis pulled Lady Renford's amulet from her cloak and placed it on the table.

“The amulet!” Lady Renford exclaimed in surprise, drinking in the sight of the item with greed. “I hired Edward Frenkel to steal this... why do you have it?”

Vennis took a seat, putting her booted feet up on the table and relaxing “Well, I may have overheard a thing or two when you pulled him aside. You see, when I joined the guild, I made it my aim to surpass Edward. He was so smug, so arrogant, yet so weak. I could sense it in him. He didn't deserve to sit at the top. That position belonged to me. So when I heard you giving him such a rewarding mission, I couldn't resist following him, taking the amulet before him and earning the glory myself.”

Taking in the information, Lady Renford started laughing. She laughed so much, tears came to her eyes and she was unable to stop herself for a good minute or two. “If I'd have known there were a thief as capable as you in the guild, Vennis, I would have come to you first!” She said as she regained control of herself. “So, I must ask, what became of Mister Frenkel?”

“He was captured. By orcs” Vennis couldn't help smirking as she told the noblewoman this, imagining how much suffering he must be going through at the hands of individuals of such a brutal race, under the command of a cruel witch. “I don't know what they did with him, but I don't think it will have been anything pleasant.”

Lady Renford pulled out a bottle of expensive wine and two glasses from her cabinet, placing both glasses on the table and pouring a generous amount in each. “In that case, a toast to Edward Frenkel. Whatever hell he is currently going through, he is going through that hell so that the two of us can be better off. To Edward's sacrifice for women superior to himself.” Lady Renford giggled, raising her glass.

“I'll drink to that!” Vennis chuckled, raising her own glass too “May he make the orc girls and the witch very happy!” The two women laughed together as they clashed their glasses together before taking a drink, savouring their freedom and glory.

“Lick! Lick! Lick! Lick up that sweat!” Cheered the orcs, gathered around a small arena they had erected in the centre of the barracks. In the arena was a tiny man, surrounded by a wall of big, green orc feet that were dripping with sweat. Orc's feet were the same shade of green as the rest of their skin, with the soles and undersides of the toes being a couple shades lighter. The large, round toenails were the same dark green as their fingernails.

Flagons clanked together in the expansive room, utterly filled with the stink of feet. It was so thick, so potent, that whatever 'air' that remained in the room had a green hue to it, with the smell being so strong that it was visible, taking an appearance similar to fog. Even without all of the bare orc feet that were currently exposed in the barracks, the room had constantly tainted air due to all the orcs that lived here and their habit of airing out the boots and socks that they wore day in day out near where they slept. Hell, because orc women handed down footwear through generations, their socks and boots reeked just as badly as the feet that they never washed, with the exception of forcing people to clean them using their mouths. Thanks to the hot temperature of the room combined with orc physiology, the pores on their feet were overactive, providing plenty of sour sweat for the tiny slave to lap up.

Edward did as he was told, exhausted from all the licking and constant hot and humid conditions that he now lived in, his every breath both of source of smelly torment and unmatched arousal. The witch hadn't been kidding when she said that the sexual arousal he felt would be greater when he smelt stinkier feet, and the odour graciously provided by the feet of her hundreds of orc minions was great indeed, leagues beyond whatever Alice herself could create if she had actually been trying. It seemed that even magic paled when compared to thousands of years of evolution and culture.

“Please... Let me cum” Edward begged between long licks. Orc's had surprisingly soft soles, he had found, despite spending almost literally every waking moment in heavy boots, making it difficult for him to be so close to them without periodically rubbing his steely member against the doughy flesh, something the orcs found hilarious. The softness had something to do with their skin already being tough and not needing to callous. Though that fact meant very little to the tiny man right now.

“Hmmmm” The orc having her feet worshipped pondered out loud, conjuring grins onto the faces of every orc in the room. “I suppose it has been a few days. That erection must be just unbearable for you right now, yeah?” She paused to laugh “I love how much my feet turn you on little guy, I want you to tell them about what you're going through and how much you love them.”

After months in this hellish room, being held just before the point of orgasm whilst also being ceaselessly stimulated in ways he never thought possible in his worst nightmares, being forced to suffer under countless reeking feet, Edward had long ago lost his dignity. “I love you” Kiss “I love you so much” Kiss “I NEED release. I need it so damn bad” Kiss. He broke down sobbing, a common occurrence that always amused his many tormentors. He tried to ignore the maddening throbbing of his loins as he continued giving the stinky foot, which was far bigger than he was, sloppy kisses and telling it how much he supposedly loved it. Though from past experiences, he doubted that earning his release would be so easy.

“I've made my decision!” The same orc girl announced. Edward said silent prayers in his head, hoping for mercy. No such luck. “You can have your release... Once you've eaten the toejam of all of these barefoot beauties that are blessing you with their stench.”

By this, she meant the orcs in the room who sat with their feet bared and in his arena. The rest of the orcs in the barracks that were stood around watching still had their footwear on, preparing their feet for a later session in which they would take part.

In horror, Edward shook his head slowly, unable to comprehend how cruel these women could be. The toejam of orc girls was the physical manifestation of their terrible foot funk that grew in the the damp caverns between their thick, powerful toes. There did not exist a worse taste than the cheesy, bitter taste of orc toejam. In a dry state, it would have the consistency of jam but as orc feet were never dry, the persistent marinading in footsweat gave the toejam the consistency of damp peanut butter. It wouldn't be his first time eating it, but he had never had to consume such a substantial amount of the sour toe gunk before.

Giggling, all of the orcs lowered their feet, giving the tiny human access to their toes that would normally be too high for him to reach without great effort. He stood in the middle of a ring of massive green toes, struggling to function as both the impossibly awful stench and immense, frustrating arousal racked his body, his seemingly endless erection standing to attention as always. Realising that it didn't matter where he started, the process would be equally gruelling no matter whose toes he began cleaning between first and so chose to start with the orc he had pleaded with to give him permission to orgasm. She smiled as he hesitantly approached, spreading her toes and exposing the reeking crevices that were smeared with the terrible toejam that was so important to orcs. “Enjoy your meal slave” The orc girl taunted “We've worked hard on that precious toejam.”

Kicking off his arduous, torturous task in order to earn those few seconds of relief that he so desperately needed, Edward dived into the first of many toe caves and started eating the disgusting substance as quickly as he could. By the time that the first stinky set of toes was done, all of the vileness cleansed from between each, his pace had slowed significantly. Taking his first mouthful of toejam on the second foot, choking on the intense fumes while also being turned on by them. Truly, the witch Alice Bramble had devised a terrible torture indeed by casting such evil, sadistic spells on him and leaving him to a horde of merciless orc girls who wanted nothing more than to make him endure every rancid aspect of their feet.

Hours later, Edward was finished. Using his cursed bottomless stomach, he had eaten more than his own body weight in the filth that these orcs took great delight in making him eat from between their toes. Unfortunately for Edward the orcs couldn't resist the urge to clamp their cheesy toes around his head as he worked making the already difficult task all the more taxing. The final set had taken just as long as the first four pairs, he had slowed down so much from fatigue. Thankfully, this resulted in a dozen orc girls looking rather satisfied with his efforts. Such a sight was promising, as it had always meant an upcoming release. Though, as with anything these orcs did to him, his release would be anything but easy.

“Good job!”

“My toes look good as new!”

“Who's a good little footslave? You are!”

The orcs showered him with compliments for his work.

“So what do you think girls?” One of them addressed the others “You think he deserves his release?”

“Sure” Another one responded, rubbing her sweaty bare feet together “Let's make it fun for him.”

“Oh no” Edward murmured as the soles formed up, creating a wall of stinky green flesh topped with looming, bulbous heads.

“Get him girls!” One of them yelled with glee, signalling for all of them to move their feet towards the tiny, who yearned for his orgasm that he had worked so hard for. The space around Edward that wasn't occupied by nasty foot flesh was slowly taken away as they made their way towards him. The crowd of orcs spectating had gone quiet, watching the finale to his most recent bout of foot filled denial torture with hushed excitement.

He groaned in sexual anguish as he felt the warm mass of soles eventually make contact, smushing him between the two fastest feet in the circle. They pushed him to the floor, and the many other feet who failed to reach him reached fell upon him, burying the tiny under smelly feet. They rubbed his body with their sole, teased his engorged member with their toes. The group worked together, allowed each other to have a go at the little guy with their own feet. Now not only was Edward being stimulated by the spell, but being physically stimulated by the twelve bares of funky orc feet.

The orcs continued violating the suffering tiny with their feet for a few minutes, ignoring his miserable cries for help, they verbally teased him, asking if their feet stink, asking if he wants to cum. He barely heard them, lost in the overwhelming sexual frustration. He was so close. So damn close. He had been this close for days and only a few words from his tormentors could end it.

“Go ahead. You have permission to orgasm. You better me grateful.”

Seconds after the orc who spoke finished, Edward exploded. The semen was washed away almost immediately in the heavy mass of sweaty feet that he was in the centre of, but the unreal euphoria that consumed him in the moment of orgasm stopped him from caring about his surroundings for a short yet vital moment. While the build up was most definitely not worth it, when he was given permission to ejaculate after days sporting an erection that just wouldn't quit, one that screamed for release, the result was incomparable to any experience he had in his previous way of life. Even the original orgasm bestowed upon him by the witch herself was nothing on this.

The feet withdrew, presumably being contained by dirty, sweaty socks and returning to their hot, swampy boots, their owners aiming to make them stinkier for next time and to cultivate more 'delicious' toejam.

“Thank you slave” One of the orcs said to the tiny, who was collapsed in a worn out heap on the floor of his arena. She blew him a kiss and stood, likely going for a patrol of the castle or for a jog to compensate for the sweat that Edward had licked from her feet. The others did the same, saying something similar, some blowing a kiss or winking at him, then going to work out.

It didn't take very long for Edward to become erect again. In this room of perpetual foot stink, there was no escape from sexual stimulation thanks to Alice's spell. After deciding amongst themselves who currently had the smelliest feet, the winner stepped forward, standing above Edward's defeated form in his personal torture arena. “Hello there maggot” She grinned down at him, taking one of the seats by the arena. With great effort tugging at her armoured, thick, leather boot, she managed to remove her foot, then peeled off the filthy sock which had taken in so much sweat that the thick, absorbent material clung to her green foot like a second skin. The odour filling Edward's lungs became far worse with such a dreadful appendage back in close proximity. He wished for his cycle of torment, stink and denial to end as the foot slowly came over him, the orc wiggling her gargantuan toes and wrinkling her damp, wide sole. Now completely in the shadow of this orc's foot, Edward wept again as it fell on him, pressing down with immense pressure, sufficient pressure to plaster him to the sticky, sweaty foot. When she lifted her foot again, Arthur was no longer in his arena. No, he was being transported from one prison to another. She took great pleasure in putting her sock back on, knowing that the disgusting material would cling tightly to his back, making escape even more impossible than it already was. The final act consisted of shoving her foot back in the still steaming boot. For the next few days, Edward would remain in there underfoot; being cooked in the confines of this orc's boot, wriggling lustfully against her soft, sweating sole, with no-one to hear him begging for release once more.

An entire week later, the orc entered the barracks after a day of patrolling the land around the castle, baking in the hot light of the sun. She loved the squishing sensations she felt under her sole with every step, knowing that a week trapped in her boot with a big, sweaty foot would have been nothing but pure torment for the tiny.

Having been summoned to the barracks on account of currently being one of the twelve stinkiest orcs in the garrison, she was pleased to see the others sat at the hot table with a deck of cards. Twelve had become the quintessential amount of orcs to take part in the tiny slave's stinky sessions, not too many that the torment became too impersonal but plenty to provide ample feet to drive him insane.

Named for the enchantment on it, the hot table had become an effective tool to punish Edward. It was a table where the area underneath it was extremely hot and thanks to the many pairs of boots and soaked socks left to sit in the hot zone, very humid too. The orc girls, always looking for ways to make their feet smellier, sought any of the limited seats at the table whenever they had to do something that required use of a table: from eating their dinner to playing board games or cards.

“What took you so long?” A grinning orc already sat at the table asked the orc 'taking care' of Edward. Green wisps of pure foot odour leaked out from below the table.

“I had to stop by the Boss' room and decided to take the long route. I could feel the worm squirming around under my foot, so I knew he was enjoying himself. How could I deprive him of that?” The other orcs laughed as she took a seat at the table. Pulling off her boot and sock, she peeled the tiny from her sweaty foot and deposited him on the table. He was a crying mess, pleading with his masters from the second he was freed.

“Do you ever get tired of begging us so much?” An orc toying with the deck of cards asked. Another one of them leaned forward, grabbing the middle of the table and pulling it out, revealing a small hole. From the hole viridescent stinky fumes spilled out. On the piece of the table she had pulled out, a pair of shackles hung on a long chain. Edward had been hung underneath the hot table before and it was arguably the worst torture they had devised for him thus far.

“I-I... just want this to end” Edward said, hugging himself and trying to ignore the vexation that filled his body, leaving him unable to remain still. Of course, now that he was out of the boot the effect was somewhat lessened but simply being in this room didn't allow a break. Regardless, he was soon to be plunged into a hell far worse than any orc's boot. Three orcs manhandled the tiny, who resisted not out of hope but out of the fact that every touch to his overly sensitised body was agonising. Using a gag made from the fibres taken from a moist orc sock, they stuffed it in his mouth, enclosing his miniature wrists in the shackles at the same time. Unable to beg and forced to breath entirely through his nose, Edward moaned. The next orgasm was hours away at least, and he wasn't sure he could endure until the end of this torture session. He would, of course. He had endured every previous one, simply because he had no choice in the matter, no means of escape.

“Oh yeah, one more thing slave” The orc who had been taking care of him for the past week addressed him directly, the look of barely contained joy on her face evident that she had bad news “I visited Boss Bramble before I came here, to inform her of how your torment is coming along.”

Edward whimpered into his gag in response, eager to hear what the witch had said. The hope of an eventual end bloomed, perhaps Alice would pity him and either show him mercy or just put him out of his chronic misery.

“Well... you're not gonna like this, but she's not happy with how kindly we've been treating you.”

Kindly!? The word seemed out of place. Did she have a lacking vocabulary? Did she have any understanding of what that word meant? What he had been put through was anything but kind. For the first time in a while, Edward felt something more than frustration, despair and humiliation. He felt angry.

“After hearing her points, I've come to agree with her. When we make you worship our feet to earn your release, you're not desperate enough. You know how easily we'll give you the orgasm that you seek if you please us. So, she's made a rule that you must go through a whole year of continuous stimulation and denial at our smelly feet before we even consider granting you permission to cum.”

A... Year? Impossible! Edward felt the fresh anger evaporate as quickly as it had arrived, feeling a chilling dread overtake his mind. It seemed so... unbearable. To him, even a week of this had felt like an eternity of torture; a year would be unimaginable.

“Okay, he's heard it. Let's play already! I'm getting bored” One of the more impatient orcs at the table spoke.

“You heard her Edward, it's time to go bye bye. Since we won't need to talk to you for a good while, given your new sentence, you're gonna be under the table for way longer than you ever thought you would be. Don't worry, I'll ensure that all of the seats are occupied at all times, so there will be plenty of big stinky feet to keep you company.” With that, she dangled the tiny above the centre hole of the table, lowering him into the reeking abyss below. As he passed the threshold, he was assaulted by extremely potent stench and heat without delay, the atmosphere proving to be worse than the inside of an oven-like boot with a rapidly perspiring foot crushing him. He continued down until the hole was plugged, leaving him hanging there. Underneath his feet, which were swinging limply, was a vast collection of vacant boots and discarded socks, polluting the space under the table until no air remained, only foot stink. That would have been bad enough, but the already limited space was filled up by the enormous, ripe feet of the twelve orcs that crammed themselves around the table. Now that Edward was available to be toyed with, they grappled with his body, hugging him with their grimy toes, embedding him in their fleshy soles and overall molesting his highly aroused body with inhumanly ripe feet. In such a state, even a light touch was what could only be described as sexual agony, and the way they touched him was anything but light.

They did this without even thinking, to them it seemed like the natural thing to do as they amused themselves above playing cards. Dealing out the cards, the orcs cared little for the suffering of Edward at their feet, only that he was being dominated so easily by them, that they were putting him through hell with almost no effort. As painful frustration racked his helpless body, being attacked by massive, acrid feet in the midst of this malodorous miasma, Edward desperately craved the few moments of ecstasy which was denied from him, the unrivalled orgasm which was at least an entire year of torture away.

Description
In broad daylight, a figure walked through the streets of Nelrand, heading straight for the Duke's keep. They walked with great purpose, a singular objective clear in their mind. The identity of his figure was hidden by a long, brown, hooded cloak that covered the entirety of the rather slim, short body.

No-one paid much attention to this figure. The people of Nelrand were too busy going about their everyday business: visiting the market, trying to sell off their own goods, some even up to shadier activities. None of that mattered to the individual.

The Duke's keep struck an imposing view, though less so than structures that the hooded figure had visited recently. Regardless, no matter how magnificent a building looked, it wouldn't intimidate this particular person.

Guards stepped forward as the visitor approached the open portcullis of the keep, crossing their halberds before the figure to stop them.

“Halt! Who goes there!” One of the guards asked loudly, not willing to let a stranger into the Duke's property.

“A friend” A woman's voice came from under the hood “I come seeking a lady of nobility, someone going by the name 'Miss Terry.'”

Looking surprised, the guardsmen withdrew their extended halberds. “We sincerely apologise” The guard who had spoken said, bowing his head “Please forgive us. We had no idea you were an associate of the Duke's own daughter.”

“You are forgiven” The figure gave a smile so pleased at this treatment that the guards could sense it beneath the hood “Now move aside.”

Doing as she commanded, the guards hindered the guest no further, leaving her with free reign to explore the keep. Of course, there was no need for her to do so. On missions in the past, the figure had come to know the layout of the keep like the back of her hand. She headed up to the second floor: to the bedroom of Miss Terry.

Knock knock.

Opening the door, Miss Terry gave a small help in surprise. She was out of her low class disguise, wearing an embroidered nightgown. In the pale moonlight, she looked beautiful. “Hello? Who are you exactly?”

Bowing, the figure spoke “Greetings, Lady Renford. This is... the first time I've been invited into your father's residence, so excuse me if I seem a little awkward. My name is Vennis. I am from the thieves guild.”

“Oh?” Lady Renford moved backwards, allowing the thief to enter her bedroom. Vennis did so, pulling down her hood in the process. “Have you come to report the success of Mister Frenkel?”

A single, loud, mocking laugh came from Vennis. “Not exactly” A thud was heard as Vennis pulled Lady Renford's amulet from her cloak and placed it on the table.

“The amulet!” Lady Renford exclaimed in surprise, drinking in the sight of the item with greed. “I hired Edward Frenkel to steal this... why do you have it?”

Vennis took a seat, putting her booted feet up on the table and relaxing “Well, I may have overheard a thing or two when you pulled him aside. You see, when I joined the guild, I made it my aim to surpass Edward. He was so smug, so arrogant, yet so weak. I could sense it in him. He didn't deserve to sit at the top. That position belonged to me. So when I heard you giving him such a rewarding mission, I couldn't resist following him, taking the amulet before him and earning the glory myself.”

Taking in the information, Lady Renford started laughing. She laughed so much, tears came to her eyes and she was unable to stop herself for a good minute or two. “If I'd have known there were a thief as capable as you in the guild, Vennis, I would have come to you first!” She said as she regained control of herself. “So, I must ask, what became of Mister Frenkel?”

“He was captured. By orcs” Vennis couldn't help smirking as she told the noblewoman this, imagining how much suffering he must be going through at the hands of individuals of such a brutal race, under the command of a cruel witch. “I don't know what they did with him, but I don't think it will have been anything pleasant.”

Lady Renford pulled out a bottle of expensive wine and two glasses from her cabinet, placing both glasses on the table and pouring a generous amount in each. “In that case, a toast to Edward Frenkel. Whatever hell he is currently going through, he is going through that hell so that the two of us can be better off. To Edward's sacrifice for women superior to himself.” Lady Renford giggled, raising her glass.

“I'll drink to that!” Vennis chuckled, raising her own glass too “May he make the orc girls and the witch very happy!” The two women laughed together as they clashed their glasses together before taking a drink, savouring their freedom and glory.

“Lick! Lick! Lick! Lick up that sweat!” Cheered the orcs, gathered around a small arena they had erected in the centre of the barracks. In the arena was a tiny man, surrounded by a wall of big, green orc feet that were dripping with sweat. Orc's feet were the same shade of green as the rest of their skin, with the soles and undersides of the toes being a couple shades lighter. The large, round toenails were the same dark green as their fingernails.

Flagons clanked together in the expansive room, utterly filled with the stink of feet. It was so thick, so potent, that whatever 'air' that remained in the room had a green hue to it, with the smell being so strong that it was visible, taking an appearance similar to fog. Even without all of the bare orc feet that were currently exposed in the barracks, the room had constantly tainted air due to all the orcs that lived here and their habit of airing out the boots and socks that they wore day in day out near where they slept. Hell, because orc women handed down footwear through generations, their socks and boots reeked just as badly as the feet that they never washed, with the exception of forcing people to clean them using their mouths. Thanks to the hot temperature of the room combined with orc physiology, the pores on their feet were overactive, providing plenty of sour sweat for the tiny slave to lap up.

Edward did as he was told, exhausted from all the licking and constant hot and humid conditions that he now lived in, his every breath both of source of smelly torment and unmatched arousal. The witch hadn't been kidding when she said that the sexual arousal he felt would be greater when he smelt stinkier feet, and the odour graciously provided by the feet of her hundreds of orc minions was great indeed, leagues beyond whatever Alice herself could create if she had actually been trying. It seemed that even magic paled when compared to thousands of years of evolution and culture.

“Please... Let me cum” Edward begged between long licks. Orc's had surprisingly soft soles, he had found, despite spending almost literally every waking moment in heavy boots, making it difficult for him to be so close to them without periodically rubbing his steely member against the doughy flesh, something the orcs found hilarious. The softness had something to do with their skin already being tough and not needing to callous. Though that fact meant very little to the tiny man right now.

“Hmmmm” The orc having her feet worshipped pondered out loud, conjuring grins onto the faces of every orc in the room. “I suppose it has been a few days. That erection must be just unbearable for you right now, yeah?” She paused to laugh “I love how much my feet turn you on little guy, I want you to tell them about what you're going through and how much you love them.”

After months in this hellish room, being held just before the point of orgasm whilst also being ceaselessly stimulated in ways he never thought possible in his worst nightmares, being forced to suffer under countless reeking feet, Edward had long ago lost his dignity. “I love you” Kiss “I love you so much” Kiss “I NEED release. I need it so damn bad” Kiss. He broke down sobbing, a common occurrence that always amused his many tormentors. He tried to ignore the maddening throbbing of his loins as he continued giving the stinky foot, which was far bigger than he was, sloppy kisses and telling it how much he supposedly loved it. Though from past experiences, he doubted that earning his release would be so easy.

“I've made my decision!” The same orc girl announced. Edward said silent prayers in his head, hoping for mercy. No such luck. “You can have your release... Once you've eaten the toejam of all of these barefoot beauties that are blessing you with their stench.”

By this, she meant the orcs in the room who sat with their feet bared and in his arena. The rest of the orcs in the barracks that were stood around watching still had their footwear on, preparing their feet for a later session in which they would take part.

In horror, Edward shook his head slowly, unable to comprehend how cruel these women could be. The toejam of orc girls was the physical manifestation of their terrible foot funk that grew in the the damp caverns between their thick, powerful toes. There did not exist a worse taste than the cheesy, bitter taste of orc toejam. In a dry state, it would have the consistency of jam but as orc feet were never dry, the persistent marinading in footsweat gave the toejam the consistency of damp peanut butter. It wouldn't be his first time eating it, but he had never had to consume such a substantial amount of the sour toe gunk before.

Giggling, all of the orcs lowered their feet, giving the tiny human access to their toes that would normally be too high for him to reach without great effort. He stood in the middle of a ring of massive green toes, struggling to function as both the impossibly awful stench and immense, frustrating arousal racked his body, his seemingly endless erection standing to attention as always. Realising that it didn't matter where he started, the process would be equally gruelling no matter whose toes he began cleaning between first and so chose to start with the orc he had pleaded with to give him permission to orgasm. She smiled as he hesitantly approached, spreading her toes and exposing the reeking crevices that were smeared with the terrible toejam that was so important to orcs. “Enjoy your meal slave” The orc girl taunted “We've worked hard on that precious toejam.”

Kicking off his arduous, torturous task in order to earn those few seconds of relief that he so desperately needed, Edward dived into the first of many toe caves and started eating the disgusting substance as quickly as he could. By the time that the first stinky set of toes was done, all of the vileness cleansed from between each, his pace had slowed significantly. Taking his first mouthful of toejam on the second foot, choking on the intense fumes while also being turned on by them. Truly, the witch Alice Bramble had devised a terrible torture indeed by casting such evil, sadistic spells on him and leaving him to a horde of merciless orc girls who wanted nothing more than to make him endure every rancid aspect of their feet.

Hours later, Edward was finished. Using his cursed bottomless stomach, he had eaten more than his own body weight in the filth that these orcs took great delight in making him eat from between their toes. Unfortunately for Edward the orcs couldn't resist the urge to clamp their cheesy toes around his head as he worked making the already difficult task all the more taxing. The final set had taken just as long as the first four pairs, he had slowed down so much from fatigue. Thankfully, this resulted in a dozen orc girls looking rather satisfied with his efforts. Such a sight was promising, as it had always meant an upcoming release. Though, as with anything these orcs did to him, his release would be anything but easy.

“Good job!”

“My toes look good as new!”

“Who's a good little footslave? You are!”

The orcs showered him with compliments for his work.

“So what do you think girls?” One of them addressed the others “You think he deserves his release?”

“Sure” Another one responded, rubbing her sweaty bare feet together “Let's make it fun for him.”

“Oh no” Edward murmured as the soles formed up, creating a wall of stinky green flesh topped with looming, bulbous heads.

“Get him girls!” One of them yelled with glee, signalling for all of them to move their feet towards the tiny, who yearned for his orgasm that he had worked so hard for. The space around Edward that wasn't occupied by nasty foot flesh was slowly taken away as they made their way towards him. The crowd of orcs spectating had gone quiet, watching the finale to his most recent bout of foot filled denial torture with hushed excitement.

He groaned in sexual anguish as he felt the warm mass of soles eventually make contact, smushing him between the two fastest feet in the circle. They pushed him to the floor, and the many other feet who failed to reach him reached fell upon him, burying the tiny under smelly feet. They rubbed his body with their sole, teased his engorged member with their toes. The group worked together, allowed each other to have a go at the little guy with their own feet. Now not only was Edward being stimulated by the spell, but being physically stimulated by the twelve bares of funky orc feet.

The orcs continued violating the suffering tiny with their feet for a few minutes, ignoring his miserable cries for help, they verbally teased him, asking if their feet stink, asking if he wants to cum. He barely heard them, lost in the overwhelming sexual frustration. He was so close. So damn close. He had been this close for days and only a few words from his tormentors could end it.

“Go ahead. You have permission to orgasm. You better me grateful.”

Seconds after the orc who spoke finished, Edward exploded. The semen was washed away almost immediately in the heavy mass of sweaty feet that he was in the centre of, but the unreal euphoria that consumed him in the moment of orgasm stopped him from caring about his surroundings for a short yet vital moment. While the build up was most definitely not worth it, when he was given permission to ejaculate after days sporting an erection that just wouldn't quit, one that screamed for release, the result was incomparable to any experience he had in his previous way of life. Even the original orgasm bestowed upon him by the witch herself was nothing on this.

The feet withdrew, presumably being contained by dirty, sweaty socks and returning to their hot, swampy boots, their owners aiming to make them stinkier for next time and to cultivate more 'delicious' toejam.

“Thank you slave” One of the orcs said to the tiny, who was collapsed in a worn out heap on the floor of his arena. She blew him a kiss and stood, likely going for a patrol of the castle or for a jog to compensate for the sweat that Edward had licked from her feet. The others did the same, saying something similar, some blowing a kiss or winking at him, then going to work out.

It didn't take very long for Edward to become erect again. In this room of perpetual foot stink, there was no escape from sexual stimulation thanks to Alice's spell. After deciding amongst themselves who currently had the smelliest feet, the winner stepped forward, standing above Edward's defeated form in his personal torture arena. “Hello there maggot” She grinned down at him, taking one of the seats by the arena. With great effort tugging at her armoured, thick, leather boot, she managed to remove her foot, then peeled off the filthy sock which had taken in so much sweat that the thick, absorbent material clung to her green foot like a second skin. The odour filling Edward's lungs became far worse with such a dreadful appendage back in close proximity. He wished for his cycle of torment, stink and denial to end as the foot slowly came over him, the orc wiggling her gargantuan toes and wrinkling her damp, wide sole. Now completely in the shadow of this orc's foot, Edward wept again as it fell on him, pressing down with immense pressure, sufficient pressure to plaster him to the sticky, sweaty foot. When she lifted her foot again, Arthur was no longer in his arena. No, he was being transported from one prison to another. She took great pleasure in putting her sock back on, knowing that the disgusting material would cling tightly to his back, making escape even more impossible than it already was. The final act consisted of shoving her foot back in the still steaming boot. For the next few days, Edward would remain in there underfoot; being cooked in the confines of this orc's boot, wriggling lustfully against her soft, sweating sole, with no-one to hear him begging for release once more.

An entire week later, the orc entered the barracks after a day of patrolling the land around the castle, baking in the hot light of the sun. She loved the squishing sensations she felt under her sole with every step, knowing that a week trapped in her boot with a big, sweaty foot would have been nothing but pure torment for the tiny.

Having been summoned to the barracks on account of currently being one of the twelve stinkiest orcs in the garrison, she was pleased to see the others sat at the hot table with a deck of cards. Twelve had become the quintessential amount of orcs to take part in the tiny slave's stinky sessions, not too many that the torment became too impersonal but plenty to provide ample feet to drive him insane.

Named for the enchantment on it, the hot table had become an effective tool to punish Edward. It was a table where the area underneath it was extremely hot and thanks to the many pairs of boots and soaked socks left to sit in the hot zone, very humid too. The orc girls, always looking for ways to make their feet smellier, sought any of the limited seats at the table whenever they had to do something that required use of a table: from eating their dinner to playing board games or cards.

“What took you so long?” A grinning orc already sat at the table asked the orc 'taking care' of Edward. Green wisps of pure foot odour leaked out from below the table.

“I had to stop by the Boss' room and decided to take the long route. I could feel the worm squirming around under my foot, so I knew he was enjoying himself. How could I deprive him of that?” The other orcs laughed as she took a seat at the table. Pulling off her boot and sock, she peeled the tiny from her sweaty foot and deposited him on the table. He was a crying mess, pleading with his masters from the second he was freed.

“Do you ever get tired of begging us so much?” An orc toying with the deck of cards asked. Another one of them leaned forward, grabbing the middle of the table and pulling it out, revealing a small hole. From the hole viridescent stinky fumes spilled out. On the piece of the table she had pulled out, a pair of shackles hung on a long chain. Edward had been hung underneath the hot table before and it was arguably the worst torture they had devised for him thus far.

“I-I... just want this to end” Edward said, hugging himself and trying to ignore the vexation that filled his body, leaving him unable to remain still. Of course, now that he was out of the boot the effect was somewhat lessened but simply being in this room didn't allow a break. Regardless, he was soon to be plunged into a hell far worse than any orc's boot. Three orcs manhandled the tiny, who resisted not out of hope but out of the fact that every touch to his overly sensitised body was agonising. Using a gag made from the fibres taken from a moist orc sock, they stuffed it in his mouth, enclosing his miniature wrists in the shackles at the same time. Unable to beg and forced to breath entirely through his nose, Edward moaned. The next orgasm was hours away at least, and he wasn't sure he could endure until the end of this torture session. He would, of course. He had endured every previous one, simply because he had no choice in the matter, no means of escape.

“Oh yeah, one more thing slave” The orc who had been taking care of him for the past week addressed him directly, the look of barely contained joy on her face evident that she had bad news “I visited Boss Bramble before I came here, to inform her of how your torment is coming along.”

Edward whimpered into his gag in response, eager to hear what the witch had said. The hope of an eventual end bloomed, perhaps Alice would pity him and either show him mercy or just put him out of his chronic misery.

“Well... you're not gonna like this, but she's not happy with how kindly we've been treating you.”

Kindly!? The word seemed out of place. Did she have a lacking vocabulary? Did she have any understanding of what that word meant? What he had been put through was anything but kind. For the first time in a while, Edward felt something more than frustration, despair and humiliation. He felt angry.

“After hearing her points, I've come to agree with her. When we make you worship our feet to earn your release, you're not desperate enough. You know how easily we'll give you the orgasm that you seek if you please us. So, she's made a rule that you must go through a whole year of continuous stimulation and denial at our smelly feet before we even consider granting you permission to cum.”

A... Year? Impossible! Edward felt the fresh anger evaporate as quickly as it had arrived, feeling a chilling dread overtake his mind. It seemed so... unbearable. To him, even a week of this had felt like an eternity of torture; a year would be unimaginable.

“Okay, he's heard it. Let's play already! I'm getting bored” One of the more impatient orcs at the table spoke.

“You heard her Edward, it's time to go bye bye. Since we won't need to talk to you for a good while, given your new sentence, you're gonna be under the table for way longer than you ever thought you would be. Don't worry, I'll ensure that all of the seats are occupied at all times, so there will be plenty of big stinky feet to keep you company.” With that, she dangled the tiny above the centre hole of the table, lowering him into the reeking abyss below. As he passed the threshold, he was assaulted by extremely potent stench and heat without delay, the atmosphere proving to be worse than the inside of an oven-like boot with a rapidly perspiring foot crushing him. He continued down until the hole was plugged, leaving him hanging there. Underneath his feet, which were swinging limply, was a vast collection of vacant boots and discarded socks, polluting the space under the table until no air remained, only foot stink. That would have been bad enough, but the already limited space was filled up by the enormous, ripe feet of the twelve orcs that crammed themselves around the table. Now that Edward was available to be toyed with, they grappled with his body, hugging him with their grimy toes, embedding him in their fleshy soles and overall molesting his highly aroused body with inhumanly ripe feet. In such a state, even a light touch was what could only be described as sexual agony, and the way they touched him was anything but light.

They did this without even thinking, to them it seemed like the natural thing to do as they amused themselves above playing cards. Dealing out the cards, the orcs cared little for the suffering of Edward at their feet, only that he was being dominated so easily by them, that they were putting him through hell with almost no effort. As painful frustration racked his helpless body, being attacked by massive, acrid feet in the midst of this malodorous miasma, Edward desperately craved the few moments of ecstasy which was denied from him, the unrivalled orgasm which was at least an entire year of torture away.