A man buys his wife a very special Valentine’s Day gift (cowritten with Theophilous Bolt). Warning: for mature readers only.
Through the kitchen window, Autumn could see the first snow flakes beginning to fall. She watched them drift down for a moment before she lit the candles and positioned them just-so on the counter. Today was Valentine’s Day and to celebrate the occasion she had bought a nice bottle of merlot. Oh, and a new corset, a gleaming black leather one that matched her stiletto-heeled boots. Kinky and freaky, just the way that Cullen liked it.
She knew that she looked good, a natural honey-blonde who kept her figure by going to Zumba a few times a week. And her eyes were a gorgeous blue, complemented by the thick black lashes fringing them. Autumn couldn’t help but move around with an arrogant swagger. After all, she had everything that she wanted: beauty, a successful husband, a house that was straight out of Architectural Digest.
But right now, standing in the kitchen, she felt nervous for some reason. Their first Valentine’s Day together since they had been married and she wanted it to be perfect. So there were candles and wine and the snow, which was a nice touch even if it wasn’t her doing. Autumn was carefully arranging the bottle of wine and the glasses when the door opened.
Snow dusted Cullen’s peacoat as he stepped through the door, a box tucked under one arm. He was a tall man, big but elegant nonetheless. Handsome, too, a perfect match for someone like Autumn. His hair, a brown so dark that it was almost black, was also powdered with snowflakes as he shut the door. The peacoat came off and she saw that he was still wearing the Armani suit from work, expertly tailored to his powerful body.
She rushed to hug him and nearly spilled the box onto the floor. It was a large box, too big to be for jewelry or perfume. Naturally, her eyes settled on it and she saw the words “Fleur Companion Collection” in fancy silver writing.
“You didn’t!” Autumn squealed. “You got me a Companion?”
Cullen laughed. “One? I got you several of them.”
Autumn was ecstatic. Of course she had seen commercials and online advertisements for Companions, genetically-engineered beings who were flawless in every way. One of the women at work had bragged that her boyfriend had bought several for his Fantasy Football league, tiny athletes who played one another with a ball no bigger than a pea. Now Autumn had one…no, several, for herself.
“Let me see!” She was giddy as he opened the top of the box. There they were, twelve of them, each smaller than her thumb. Their arms and legs were bound with brightly colored ribbon and they squirmed when the overhead light hit them.
“They’re part of the Fleur Collection,” Cullen explained, reaching in and probing a small redhead with his fingertip. “Engineered for beauty and gentleness. Oh, and obedience. They’re programmed to respond to specific commands, like ‘Stay’ or ‘Come.’”
They were beautiful, Autumn had to admit. They had shapely limbs and ample breasts for their size. Like miniature models, except they weren’t Photoshopped. For a few seconds, she felt terribly envious of the Companions in the box. But then she realized how silly she was being. Why should she be jealous of something that wasn’t even a person?
“Really? So if I told them to stab out their own eyes, would they?” Autumn asked slowly.
“I’m not sure…maybe we could test that out later.”
She wasn’t sure if he was being serious or not but she didn’t dwell on it. Carefully, she reached down into the box and selected a woman with pale skin and wavy, chestnut-colored hair. The Companion was surprisingly light and her flesh was so, so soft, soft enough that Autumn could feel the delicate bones underneath. Holding her up closer, she saw the word “Zinnia” written on the pink ribbon that bound the tiny woman.
“‘Zinnia’?” Autumn read aloud.
Cullen was trying to find the corkscrew to open the bottle of merlot. “I think that’s her name.”
Using her forefinger, Autumn pulled away the ribbon that had been gagging the Companion. The flesh around the woman’s minuscule mouth and jaw was an angry red from the gag; nevertheless, she was still breathtakingly stunning.
“Is that right? Is your name Zinnia?” Autumn brushed the Companion’s silky hair from her face with one finger.
“Yes, ma’am,” the woman answered demurely. Autumn explored her new toy, surprised to see that besides the ribbon, the woman wasn’t wearing anything else. Cullen had been right…the Companion was very obedient, allowing her to poke at her without uttering a protest. Well, until Autumn squeezed one of her minute arms between two fingers, experimentally pulling at it. She must have been too rough because the woman let out a high-pitched cry of pain. The sound sent shivers down Autumn’s spine.
She didn’t let go of the Companion’s arm, even when the woman stared up at her, wide-eyed. Instead, she continued to twist, playing with her new toy like a child with a doll. There was a loud pop as Cullen uncorked the wine; another sound quickly followed, a horrible ripping noise. Wet warmth spread over Autumn’s fingers and when she looked down, she saw that they were now stained dark crimson. The Companion was shrieking wordlessly, a long howl of agony. When she saw the ragged stump where her arm had been, she realized that she had torn the limb off by accident.
“Oh shit, oh shit,” Autumn swore, repulsed as Zinnia writhed in her hand. The small woman was screaming her head off and she wouldn’t shut up, not even when Autumn nudged her in the stomach. She just went on making that godawful wailing as she bled out all over Autumn’s fingers and palm.
“Be quiet!” She hissed and the Companion did, her programming taking over. By this time, Cullen had put down the merlot and walked over, glancing down at the tiny maimed woman.
“I think I broke it,” Autumn said to her husband.
“Here, give her to me.”
Autumn deposited Zinnia into his outstretched hand, glad that the Companion wasn’t leaking more blood all over her. Frowning, Cullen prodded the woman, who was starting to breath shallowly, her skin rapidly turning an ashy gray color.
“Huh. She is broken,” he said and then his thick fingers curled inward, forming a fist. As Autumn watched, his hand clenched tighter and tighter, the knuckles becoming white. Zinnia’s programming worked well; she didn’t make a sound, even when her fragile bones cracked and crunched. Blood and clots of viscera bubbled up from between Cullen’s fingers, dripping down his palm and pattering onto the oak-paneled floor. With his other hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe off the broken remains of the Companion.
“Luckily, we have several more,” Cullen said, dabbing at his palm.
Autumn was silent, unsure what to say. Then, in a low voice, she asked, “How did it feel?”
Her husband looked up and the smile that appeared on his handsome face was inhuman in its cruelty.
Laurel blinked as the light came flooding in, bound tight by soft satin at her ankles and thighs, elbows firmly at her sides as she saw the broad satin… blanket… that was wrapped about her arms at the elbow and her waist, midway up her bust. Something firmer, rubber or latex, bound her mouth and neck tightly. She squirmed and cried against her gag as a massive shadow fell across her… a giantess! A no-kidding, Jack and the Beanstalk giantess! Laurel had been away from her small town, heading back to college in the big city when the light had enveloped her car from above, suffusing her with a glorious sense of well-being and comfort. And being bound so tight, this was her fondest fantasy! She hoped the beautiful giant lady would pick her and an indescribable sadness came when the long and graceful fingers descended upon the figure to her right. Zinnia! Zin-zin! Lucky duck, why should she go first?
Zin-zin and the giantess disappeared from view, and omigawd, a giant ultra-mega-hawtie in an Armani suit just cruised by, and then she was left, immobile, staring up at the ceiling, a few hundred feet up. It was cool. After all, it’d be her turn soon enough. She still squirmed a whole bunch, hoping to make the giants turned on.
“I think I broke it,” said the giant woman. Something triggered deep inside Laurel and she suddenly knew unreasonable terror.
Autumn moved her fingers in an elegant wave above the eleven remaining in the box as she prepared her next selection, “Are they mindless? Animals?”
Cullen idly wiped his hand clean of Zinnia with his Dunhill pocket-square. “Why don’t you ask one?”
Left to right, she selected the next one in line. Little… Laurel, was it? Yes, Laurel, inscribed in gold at the base of the velvet impression upon which she was laid. Laurel squirmed delectably in Autumn’s fist, so soft and lithe and oh! She was having a hard time not simply squeeeeeezing.
Delaying immediate gratification for a greater reward was what got her to the pinnacle of her ruthless career in business, so she did. Ribbons at the little thing’s ankles, thighs, bust and face, tied in perfect little bows. Autumn plucked at the tail of the gag-ribbon, latex rather than satin, and it fell away, the Companion’s lips ruby red as opposed to the tortured cherry red of her cheeks and chin where the ribbon had been.
“Please don’t break me!” she pleaded.
“Begging from the start, very nice,” Autumn said, her ice-blue eyes glowing with delight.
“I know you’re not one for defiant, bratty slaves,” Cullen replied.
“Nor you, unless you’re in the mood to unleash and unload.” She gave him a coy grin.
“Ah, but then the lawsuits happen, and well…”
Her eyes flitted back down to little Laurel in her hand. “So, are you going to get in trouble for killing that other one?”
“No, once they’re sold, that’s it. Not real people – not even animals, legally, after that one celebrity chef put them on his menu,” Cullen said.
“He did not!”
“Mmm-hmm! Drowns them in cognac and bakes them in a hollowed out potato before serving them on a silver dish and you eat them whole. The bones are soft enough to crunch once cooked, apparently.” Cullen looked down ravenously at the woman in his wife’s fist.
The Companion would suffer so much, it was making Autumn moist, a fire stoked low in her belly. Cullen was watching. She googled his name once. It was Irish for “Handsome” and the surname of some fictional vampire tool a half century back. He was too tan to be undead, but hellfire, he was handsome! Indomitable, too, sadly. It was a sharp point of contention in an otherwise perfect match. She needed people to fear and worship her to feel complete, and he did, too! A fierce conundrum!
The box that she had opened had cost twelve million intercoins. The woman she had broken by accident cost more than a yacht. Between the two of them, on their hyper-competitive career arcs, it was a mere incidental expense.
She brought Laurel up to eye level and started squeezing her, mercilessly, and laughed as the tiny thing screamed. “Well, then. I wonder, do they think?”
“Please, no, don’t hurt me!” shrieked Laurel.
“They have a full engram-mapped artificial mind…that’s a real person with real memories and emotions. It’s a lot easier than building personalities from scratch,” Cullen explained as he watched with cool disdain and a touch of anticipation. “Pay someone enough money and they’ll sell their soul. Or their personality, in this case.”
Autumn’s ice-blue eyes burned hot as she felt the woman break, collarbones and either humerus crumpling and crackling, her soft flesh warm and compliant as she pulped it, first into a squirming, jagged wreck, then into a flopping bag of skin as the light left her little eyes, and then a oozing, wet, squirming clump of meat that squirted out her clenched fist at the top, bottom and between the knuckle.
“You’re right, that was amazing!” Autumn was breathing so hard, and her eyes darted down to the box, her gape of ecstatic astonishment narrowing to something more predatory as she was aware the girls in the box had seen everything from a particularly good angle. The remaining Companions stared up at her in mute horror and she absolutely loved it.
Jasmine was confused.
Her base programming was malfunctioning, so she switched between her pseudo-memories of being an elementary school teacher and mother of three and her true existence, which was apparently an inch-tall person. Worse, she was an inch-tall person who was trapped in an immense box, murderous giants looming above her. They stared down at her, their faces a frightful distance, like gods looking down from the heavens. There was cruelty in their eyes and such awful sadistic delight that Jasmine couldn’t help but shudder.
A hand descended down into the box, startling huge with fingers that were as long as trees yet slender in a feminine way. The woman’s hand, she realized. Bound, Jasmine couldn’t do much except try to inch away, squirming like a caterpillar as the hand reached for her. Gigantic fingertips brushed her back and she redoubled her efforts to wiggle away, only to be snatched up anyway.
Curled up in the giantess’ palm, she didn’t dare to move, not even when the ribbons that tied her limbs were removed. She had seen what they had done to the others, killing them with complete contempt. All kinds of thoughts bounced around her head — her family, her job, this strange and terrible situation that she found herself facing. But most of all, she thought about the enormous blue eyes peering down at her.
The Companion in Autumn’s hand was named Jasmine, according to the ribbon. She was a pretty little thing, her hair such a pale gold that it bordered on white, and Autumn wanted very much to crush her as well. But she restrained herself, instead stroking the little woman’s hair, surprised by its silky softness.
“P-please,” the Companion begged, her eyes wide. “I have three young children…”
“No, you don’t,” Autumn corrected her. “You think you do, but you don’t. Some other woman does. You’re just a thing, a copy. Redundant.”
Minute tears glittered on the Companion’s cheeks, so small that they were mere dots.
“You’re so cruel, Autumn,” Cullen said, laughing.
His wife smirked. “Oh, you haven’t seen me being cruel yet.”
Jasmine trembled violently in her hand. As Autumn scrutinized her, she bashfully covered her tiny breasts with her arms. Poor thing was self-conscious. She had no reason to be, with her smooth, milky skin and miniature ballerina’s body. Autumn flicked her once in the chest, hard enough to make the Companion instinctively raise her arms and expose herself.
“So you said that people eat them?” she asked, remembering what he said earlier.
“Yes, they do. I’ve even tried one.”
“One of my clients brought some in. I had heard they were edible and no one was looking, so I figured why not? They don’t taste like raw meat, if that’s what you’re thinking. They’re sort of sweet…it’s like eating crunchy marzipan.”
Autumn looked at the Companion with her creamy skin, considering this. Tentatively, she raised Jasmine to her mouth, the woman mumbling pleas, and took a lick. Cullen was right! Jasmine tasted wonderful, more like sweet almonds than the sweat and flesh flavor that she had been expecting.
The Companion pushed pathetically at Autumn’s lips, her movements ticklish. Obviously, she didn’t like being that close to a giant-sized mouth. She murmured something; it may have been “No, no, no,” but Autumn couldn’t hear and didn’t actually care what she said. The woman’s flavor was enticing, delicious, and she wanted more. Popping Jasmine into her mouth, she sucked at her, savoring her taste. Shrill shrieks reverberated up through Autumn’s skull as the Companion screamed and pounded at her upper palate. Ignoring the wails, she batted Jasmine around with her tongue until she grew bored and then bit down. Something crunched loudly and sugary-sweet wetness squirted over her gums.
Jasmine’s howls became more anguished, especially when Autumn began to chew, smashing the Companion between her molars. It was exactly like crunchy marzipan. Eventually, the tiny woman’s screams faded away and there was only a squelching sound as she finished chewing. One swallow and Jasmine was gone.
“So how’d she taste?” Cullen asked, reaching into the box.
“Delicious.” Already her mouth was watering and she craved another one. Her eyes greedily followed Cullen’s hand as he pulled yet another Companion from the box and untied her. This woman was darkly tanned, with long legs and impressive breasts. She looked dazed until Cullen held her upside-down over his open mouth.
“Remember when we went to L’étoile Noire and we had the raw oysters?” He asked, allowing the Companion to dangle over his mouth, her long hair hiding her face.
“How could I forget? What a lovely restaurant that was,” Autumn said with a wicked grin.
“I think this will be much better.” Cullen lowered the little woman down between his lips, her body flailing like live bait on a fishing hook. She made a yelp as he let go, sealing his lips and mirroring his wife’s vicious smile. As if he were swallowing one of the oysters at L’étoile Noire, he gulped down the Companion, whole and alive.
“And I was right,” he said with a devilish wink. “She was much, much better.”
Cullen undid the button to his suit coat and slid his hand beneath his silk tie to rest upon the starched and pressed linen shirt. Autumn felt her lips part in a small gasp as he said, “I can feel her inside me. She’s squirming and kicking. It’s like a literal butterfly in my stomach! Very weird… getting weaker, fainter. Now she’s merely writhing. Going… going… gone! I spent some time at the gym today. I expect the protein in her will make me more powerful.”
“You’re doing this to me on purpose,” Autumn growled.
“Mmm. And if I am?” he said with his infuriating smirk, the one he used for business rivals he had over a barrel. Predatory and avaricious, oh gods, she loved that. His suit, she saw now, was not Armani at all, but a very close copy, tailored with much finer fabric by much more able hands to his tall, lithe frame than the couture designer could provide. He even had the retro touch of the cuffed pant-leg, and saaaay…
“Pervert, those are your dress boots,” she sneered. He responded by gesturing to her own hand-cobbled thigh-high boots, made of cloned human hide. She rolled her eyes, as they were in fashion, everyday wear for the elite. His were something different. They looked like a typical double monk-strap dress shoe, rare enough on their own, but his had a secret… they were actually boots that went up and up and up and he was so weird.
“I’m kind of mad at you, you were in such a fantastic outfit, and you wear those with them. Well, then, Mr. I Eat People Alive, you’ll just have to prove their worth,” Autumn huffed.
“Well, in the grand scheme of things, they were less than my…” he began with a tedious, pedantic tone.
“I said worth, not cost,” she snapped as she plucked Poppy from her indentation and angrily, roughly, unbound her. The woman wailed, but Autumn wasn’t interested. She placed Poppy upon the kitchen floor and stood back up to gaze down contemptuously.
“Run at him. Go.” Autumn encouraged the tiny woman upon the floor with a nudge from her own witch-toed boot. The puny thing fell right over and started to cry, so Autumn STOMPED, and the woman was jolted a half foot from the floor as the giantess’ anger landed within a hairsbreadth. She began to flee for all she was worth, weeping all the while.
Cullen laughed and responded, stalking forward to meet his wife’s test. The squared-toe sole of his boot caught the Companion between chin and clavicle, bruising her throat and dropping her on the spot. She writhed and kicked, clutching her throat, and then the Giant, her Cullen, stepped on the tiny thing! The inside edge of his boot bisected the tiny woman’s body from shoulder-blade to hip, one plump breast free, the other being bruised unmercifully under his cruelly lugged bootsole.
Her free leg was trying to kick its way free of his oppressive weight, and her free arm was variously pushing, punching and gesturing at the tyrant boot upon her, as she cursed and spat at him. Cullen never tired of it and instead, with a pitiless, intense gaze, stepped down.
The woman’s head was thrown back in agony, her little hand gripping his Vibram bootsole hard enough to rip the nails bloodily from her fingers, little leg drumming in absolute agony upon their fabulously expensive kitchen floor. She screamed, until she could not, the air forced from her by his foot and her vocal chords blown out bloodily.
He rolled his weight forward onto the ball of his foot and then upon most of Poppy… her body paused a moment, her lush lips in an “Oh!” of agony and surprise… and then her thoracic cavity gave way with an audible “pop,” sending her intestines slithering, squirting out rents in her side as she was abruptly killed underboot.
“Hmm, not bad. It was okay, but we need a baseline, perv,” she snarled teasingly at her husband.
“A baseline?” Cullen asked as he wiped the rest of Poppy off on the kitchen doormat after reducing her to a fine meat-paste with a twist of his ankle, like putting out a cigarette butt.
“Grab Daisy there and put her at my feet. Remove the gag, but keep her bound. I want to take my time with this,” Autumn sneered. Cullen smirked in approval and did as he was bade.
“Wriggle, worm. Flee me as best you can,” Autumn commanded and Daisy did as best as she was able, sobbing and pleading as she inched away on the floor, pitiable and helpless. This aroused a viciousness in the giantess and she slammed her stiletto heel into the floor at Daisy’s feet, and let the toe of her boot, from the ball of her foot to the sublimely pointed tip, rest lightly upon the tiny woman. She closed her eyes and concentrated, and adored the feeling of a living, knowing person underfoot.
Autumn slowly opened her long-lashed eyes, and just as slowly stepped down, pressing Daisy’s considerable bust flat, bruising it unmercifully. She didn’t stop there, and while she was unhappy she couldn’t get a nice, firm “pop” like Cullen could with his massive, solid weight, she was more than pleased with the slow crunches and crackles, punctuated by insane screams of agony. Daisy’s pouty lips were flecked with blood-frothed spittle as she gargled her own lifeblood and then her screams were silenced as her esophagus and stomach were everted out her own wide-open maw, and her intestines were sent hurtling down to slither wetly from her anus.
Autumn lifted her foot to admire her work, and with a few firm stomps, rendered the tiny woman into a red ruin that she then idly ground into a thin smear underboot.
“I’d call that a tie,” Autumn said, impressed with herself and aroused beyond reason.
“Oh, are we competing, then?” he asked dangerously.
“Since when are we not?” she replied with a saucy, seductive smile, impish and impudent.
Only half of the Bouquet remained in the box and Autumn took her time choosing the next Companion, a freckled redhead named Camellia. She untied the woman and then left her on the counter, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to climb down easily. Then she strolled over to where Cullen was pouring wine into glasses, fascinated by how she left crimson footprints on the wooden floor. The maid would clean up those bloody prints tomorrow and never say a word, of course. Perhaps she would find whatever remained of Daisy and Poppy as well, smeared into the oak floorboards and on the doormat.
As Autumn accepted one of the wine glasses, she watched Camellia out of the corner of her eye. The little redhead was frozen on the counter, an insect-sized statue. No doubt she was watching them intensely, hanging upon their every word.
Autumn pretended to ignore her, sipping at her wine. Let the woman sit there and imagine all of the awful things that they could do to her.
“There’s nothing wrong with a little friendly competition,” Autumn said to Cullen. Which was true. They were always secretly (and not so secretly) competing against one another. Even Valentine’s Day had turned into a sort of competition. She had bought the expensive merlot and he had one-upped her with the boxful of Companions.
“Of course not,” he replied. Camellia was now staring at Cullen. It probably wasn’t nothing, but Autumn turned on her, her blue eyes narrowing.
“Like what you see?” Her voice came out angrier than she would have liked.
“Wh-what?” Camellia’s face blanched, her entire body quivering.
“I saw the way that you were staring at my husband,” Autumn snarled.
Camellia began to stutter stupidly, “N-n-no, m-m-ma’am, I-I w-wasn’t. I-I s-swear!”
Autumn set her wineglass down on the opposite counter with a soft clink. Oh, she knew that the Companion hadn’t been staring that way. But she pounced on the opportunity to torment the little bitch. And what an idea she had!
Her stiletto-heels created a rhythmic din on the floor as she strode over to where Camellia was huddled. The Companion winced with each footstep, until Autumn was towering over her, hands on her hips. She glared down at the tiny woman.
“I think you were,” Autumn spat. A terrible smile appeared on her face and she reached up to her right ear, where a diamond stud earring sparkled in the lobe. Cullen had given the earrings to her as a Christmas present and she had figured that she would wear them today. The diamond shone and caught the candlelight as she pulled the earring out and pinched it between two fingers.
“Camellia, I’d like you to do something for me,” Autumn said and the Companion stiffened, her programming taking over. She moved the earring closer to the redhead, the golden tip facing her.
“Anything, ma’am,” Camellia whispered.
“Stab out your eyes.”
With all of her strength, Camellia fought. But her body was moving on its own accord, as though she was a puppet being pulled along on invisible strings. Between the giantess’ immense fingers, the earring gleamed beautifully and ominously. She tried to stop her own legs but they continued to march forward, her internal programming forcing her on. High above, her tormenter’s eyes followed her gleefully.
Camellia wanted to beg her to stop, to recall the command. But her voice wouldn’t work, either. She could only scream, over and over again, in her head. Especially when she was close enough to the tip of the earring to see its sharpness. The giantess held her hand steady as Camellia reluctantly positioned her face over the tip…and then lowered it down.
The last thing that she saw out of her left eye was the earring; then it plunged down deep into the socket. Pain, bright and horrible, erupted throughout her whole head and something hot and gelatinous splashed down her cheek. Camellia’s torso did a little jig of agony and she would have fainted, if the programming had allowed her to do so. But she had to carry out her mistress’ instruction and so she pulled the earring from her eye socket with a squishy squelch. Darkness filled one half of her vision as she prepared to stab out the other eye.
The giantess was breathing heavier, enjoying her suffering. Slowly, Camellia brought her face down a second time and this time the pain was double-fold. Her vision went completely white then black. The command fulfilled, she ripped her head away, clutching at her face. She could feel but not see the blood leaking down her hands, dribbling onto the counter beneath her.
Laughter rumbled all around her and she glanced around blindly, unsure what to do. She would have cried…if she could have even cried anymore.
Cullen scooped up the box in the crook of one arm and Autumn in the other. She shrieked playfully as she tucked the blinded Companion into her corset, although the tiny woman was shrieking less playfully. Autumn thrilled as she felt the huge hard body beneath the soft wool of the suit. She snagged the merlot on the way out of the kitchen and ordered her little blind slave to squirm for her pleasure. Blinded Camellia did as she was told.
He dumped them on their double-king bed and Autumn laughed and managed not to spill a drop of the wine, while the companions tumbled from their box onto silken sheets, strewn with rose petals, still bound and gagged. Cullen took a moment to loom over them, a wrathful, lustful skyscraper in an expensive suit, and then declared, “You exist to please your goddess. Go to her.”
Autumn was caught between watching the women wriggle their way toward her, like pretty little worms, and watching her husband disrobe – shrugging out of his jacket, letting it fall to the floor, removing his cufflinks with practiced ease, and pulling deftly at his silk necktie, and flinging it aside. The more agile of the surviving Companions, Heather, had reached her calf and was kissing and licking with her little tongue at the Nappa stretch-leather of her boot while working up the knee. Autumn took a deep swig of wine as, no lie, she actually felt the little mouth at work.
Cullen didn’t unbutton his shirt so much as explode out of it, too impatient to deal with the Companions, powerful hands all but shredding a hand-tailored linen shirt, buttons sliced from actual pearls clattering about the room as they popped off. Iris wound up at her ankle, tracing the zipper along the inside of her shapely ankle with an eager tongue, working north. Cullen took a moment to unbuckle his belt, slowly and carefully, as Autumn all but bounced upon their bed. She could see the barest arc of his inguinal ligament with his pants on, and he shrugged them off, and his low-rider briefs let her see even more of the “V” of his Adonis Belt, angling down to a package clearly obvious through his underwear.
“That one,” Autumn said imperiously, pointing to the one Companion not worming her way to worship. Dahlia was instead sitting upright and gazing up at the man-god disrobing. Every fiber of her being told her to crawl and worship, but her pussy was so wet, all she wanted to ever do was stare up at the male edifice before her. She did what no other Companion had ever done – disobey. Dahlia worshipped him so incredibly hard and she was screaming prayers to him against her gag. He rewarded her by reaching down from above – he had long, powerful fingers, the envy of every pianist or professional strangler.
“This one?” Cullen asked as he picked up the sole Companion not squirming her way to pleasure his wife.
“Yes. She’s broken…she won’t come,” Autumn told him, taking another swig and handing the bottle to her husband. He lifted the bottle, drank deep, and then looked down at Dahlia. Dahlia knew that meant her God loved her, because he was beautiful and perfect and Dahlia screamed so loud when he squeezed her in his fist, she blew the gag clear off. Her arms dislocated at the shoulders and elbows before shattering, her ribs popping in order from top to bottom as his hand clenched. She was shocked to see her own blood vomit out onto his deceptively soft skin.
“Well, she’s certainly broken now,” he said, looking down at his worshipper with vicious delight.
“Oh, well, then, I’ll come,” Autumn said, squirming as Iris had found her upper thigh and Heather had made it to the skin between her boot-top and her panty-strap, both women putting their tongue to work at her sensitive flesh.
“You will? Just from this?” Cullen asked, astonished.
“Mmmmm. I will if you rip her in two,” Autumn purred.
Cullen did as she asked and was not quick about it, relishing the wet screams of the companion as he pulllllled her, one hand firm about her crushed torso, the other at her legs. Her entrails spilled with a geyser of blood that splattered his well-sculpted male form. Autumn orgasmed at the sight of it, not even needing to touch herself. She saw the bulge beneath his boxer-briefs had changed shape and instead of the teardrop of his unit, his massive shaft was evident, peeking above the elastic waistband.
“Enough. I’ll untie the rest as you recline here at my side,” she declared, roughly un-ribboning Iris. Cullen took a moment to clench his fists, enjoying the sensation of either half of the woman turning into mashed meat. So many rivals he’d do this to, in an instant… and the notion made him harder. He flicked away Dahlia’s remains and fell onto the bed, thumbs hooking into the waistband of his briefs, wriggling out of them as he fell. He crab-walked backward until his head hit a pillow, and then he collapsed at her side, looked over at her, “We meet again!”
“Here. Drink. Then lie there and look good,” Autumn demanded, untying the other Companions. She gathered them up in a bunch and then dropped them upon his belly. He laughed and drank and watched as the beautiful women were deposited upon his hard-won six-pack. It was doing his hard-on no favors, driving it to throb higher.
“Each of you find a muscle and adore its boundary. Put your tongue to his skin where one muscle meets the other and trace the entirety of it. This I command,” said Autumn. As one, they all murmured “Yes, Goddess,” and set about their task.
Autumn watched hungrily as they licked and caressed along her husband and man-god’s linae transversae, the lines between the abs. Three ventured south towards Adonis’ Belt, and one north, licking and stroking Cullen’s left pectoral where his abs ended and his sculpted chest began. Iris! Autumn nudged her in the direction of Cullen’s nipple, “That way, slave. I want your tongue on his nipple, now.”
Iris scrambled to comply, her bountiful bust pressed to his areola as her soft lips found the small pillar of his flesh. Cullen hissed sharply as the sensation, but was distracted by the women licking their way down either side of his inguinal ligament, within a whisper of his sex.
Leaning back on the huge bed, Autumn observed the tiny things trying to please her husband. It was unbelievably erotic watching them crawl all over themselves and knowing that she could kill every last one of them. The jealousy she had experienced earlier was slowly fading away, replaced by a desire to be horrible and wicked. There was movement in her cleavage; Camellia poked her disfigured head out from between the two heavy breasts trapping her, gawking blindly. Autumn ignored the little redhead, her eyes fixed on the women. One of them (she thought the Companion was named Lily, but she couldn’t keep them all straight) had reached the base of his erection and was licking for all that was she worth. As if she were picking up an insect or a baby mouse, she grabbed the Companion by one leg. Autumn had always considered herself to be heterosexual, but these were just Companions, so she could do anything that she wanted with them and not feel guilty.
The Companion looked surprised as Autumn tugged open her lacy crimson panties and dropped her inside. With Lily thrashing against her clit, she didn’t even have to pleasure herself as she watched the show before her. This was fantastic, a billion times better than all of the normal-sized submissives that they had used before. With real people, they had had to practice restraint. With these Companions, they could revel in their sadism.
Cullen was moaning, instinctively thrusting and gyrating his hips at the Companions’ touch. Autumn saw this and she raised herself up on her knees, Lily still wedged between the silky fabric of her panties and the warm, oppressive flesh of her outer labia.
“Not yet,” she said to her husband, afraid that he would climax at that moment, “Let’s savor this.”
“You doubt my power.” He grinned at her darkly.
“You do! You think she’d get me off as easily as that? My staying power is legendary. Observe,” he said as he grasped his member. Violet, who had just arrived to ply her tongue at the base of his sex, was now trapped between his huge, calloused palm and and his immense pillar of desire, upholstered in satiny-soft skin. He dragged the voluptuous, squirming, screaming woman up its length with exaggerated, sensual slowness, and back down with aggressive firmness. Back up, harder, less gentle yet more sensual, her little legs kicking, hands waving, shrieking. Back down, brutally, little legs quivering with locked-knees at the agony and intensity of his grip. Back up agaiiiiin… crrrrrrunch. He crushed her against his cock as he drove his erection to even greater heights and hardness… and he still hadn’t come. Impressive!
Autumn put her thumb to Iris’ back and slowly pressed down.
“Lick and caress my man’s nipple, bug. There is no ‘or else’…I’m going to kill you against it no matter what,” she said savagely, enjoying watching Cullen’s hips buck initially at the sensation of a tiny tongue and hands at his nipple, and then at the sensation of a woman being crushed by inches against it by a cruel giantess. Iris made a weird little noise of pain, an “ugh,ugh, umph,” before her body folded messily in on itself, pulverized beneath Autumn’s thumb.
“Ohhh,” he moaned, “I WILL fuck you. Now.”
“One moment…let me get the condom.”
Cullen watched her saunter over to one of the bureaus, impeded only slightly by the wiggling woman in her panties. Why did she need a condom when she had a birth control bio-implant? Oh. Wait. He understood now. While Autumn found a condom, one of those designer ones, Cullen turned his attention to the Companion clinging to his erection.
“Heather, climb my cock like a tree-trunk. Kiss and lick my flesh as you go up,” he ordered. The tiny woman was eager to obey, sensual and seductive as she shimmied her way up as best she could the blood-slicked shaft, which was throbbing and heaving at her merest touch. She was triumphantly pressing her lips to his frenum when Autumn rolled the designer condom over her, trapping her to his flesh with brutal tightness – she could only stare up, past the edge of his cock-tip, suddenly upside down as he went from laying on his back to a more aggressive and active position. Heather stared helplessly as red lingerie was hauled roughly from hourglass hips, and a perfect pussy at the base of a blonde Brazilian strip suddenly loomed large before her, a squirming Companion her own size trapped between the lush netherlips as the giantess hurtled toward her.
At first, Lily didn’t think that her situation was so bad. True, she was imprisoned in a giantess’ panties, uncomfortably hot and slightly slimy flesh surrounding her. But at least she wasn’t on the floor, being stepped on like a cockroach, or worse, being eaten alive. She could handle this. Maybe the giant people would even let her go, once they were finished playing with her. Cool air and light hit her all at once as the panties were removed and she saw what was barreling toward her, as big as a city bus on her scale. When Lily saw the immense penis, she wailed, knowing for certain that her hope had been in vain.
The enormous cock shot toward the Companion and she had time to see that Heather was trapped within an odd-looking condom, the latex stretched over her shocked face, before the penis slammed into her like a battering ram. She must have blacked out because she found herself in a dark, wet cavern that pulsed with life. Even when she tried to reposition herself she couldn’t. The soft walls around her were too slick and she couldn’t see much of anything…until the cock reappeared, the condom giving off some sort of bluish light. One of those glow in the dark condoms, no doubt, and when Heather saw Lily, slowly twisting and suffocating inside of the tight latex, she wished that it was just a regular condom. The other Companion’s mouth opened and closed as she struggled to breathe, the condom distorting her features.
Lily screamed, the piercing sound echoing all around her.
The giant was thrusting in and out at a leisurely pace and each time that his monstrous cock reentered, it came closer to her. The Companion tried to back up but the walls closed around her, coating her with pungent fluid. She thought that she heard moans but they were far away and seemed more like distant thunder at this point. Another thrust and the gargantuan penis bumped her. Lily was face-to-face with Heather, whose eyes had already started to glaze over, her movements feeble inside of the condom. The other Companion wouldn’t last for very long.
When the gigantic cock withdraw and then slammed in again, it struck Lily with concussive force. Agony shot through her body and she felt something break inside of her chest, a rib maybe. Again and again the cock mercilessly pounded her and she tried to hold up her hands at one point, but it was hopeless. The last thing that she saw was Heather’s body, motionless in its latex tomb, before it smashed into her.
They had had sex countless times before, but never anything so intense. Autumn’s polished nails raked Cullen’s back, hard enough to draw blood, but he just growled in pleasure. She felt his cock ramming into her and something else, a subtle cracking that told her that Lily had been obliterated. The knowledge that the tiny woman had just died deep within her sent Autumn over the edge; she howled as she came. A microsecond later Cullen also orgasmed, driving the head of his penis against her cervix.
He didn’t pull out right away, but instead kissed her neck, his lips soft against her skin. She smiled, touched his dark hair. Outside, the snow was picking up, turning into a real blizzard.
“We need to buy some more,” she said. “I don’t care what they cost. That was so much fun.”
Cullen withdrew from her and she could see the mangled remains of one of the Companions in the condom, red and white swirled around his gradually deflating cock. The sheets would be ruined, but they could always purchase new ones.
“They had all sorts of brands that we could try,” he told her. “There’s even a Chippendale line.”
Oh, Autumn liked that idea a lot, handsome miniature men serving her and then dying for her. She was becoming aroused again when something stirred in her cleavage. Glancing down, she spotted Camellia, still stuck in the top of her corset. The tiny blind face turned toward her, caked blood smeared underneath the empty sockets.
“I haven’t forgotten about you,” Autumn said. The Companion trembled as Autumn’s fingers came down around her minuscule head, gripping it. Casually, she pinched, Camellia’s delicate skull shattering and spewing grayish brains and blood outward. She wiped the gore onto the ruined sheet then kissed her husband again, passionately.
“Best Valentine’s Day ever,” Cullen whispered into Autumn’s ear.