Feeding Time

The rusted hinges squeal like nails across a blackboard as the tattered wooden door is opened. The summer sunlight nearly blinds the creature within, forcing his eyes shut tight as they await acclimation. There is a grotesque, fetid stench of shit and urine wafting heavily from the box as a powerful hand jerks the creature by his hair towards the light.
-How dare you close your eyes in my presence, an imperious, angry voice says. Look at me, you fucking slug!
Then a raging slap across the face, followed by the returning backhand opens his eyes, wide and alert. The harsh sun burns his retinas. He stares, blurry-eyed, straight ahead into the most incomparable pair of thighs; fat, golden, shapely, and powerful. So very powerful. As they begin to come into focus, the creature trembles as he comprehends the totality of the vision, the way Vixen has chosen to exhibit her glorious legs, adorned in the divine regalia of absolute perfection. Delicate, sheer stockings caress the exquisite flesh of her legs up to the middle of her thighs at which point an array of mind-bending black garters come to the rescue from her tight corset, holding them firmly in place. Through the constraints created by the stockings and garter straps the plump flesh of her thighs explodes, bulging deliciously over stocking-tops and between the garter straps, seeking to exert its dominance and shatter its delightfully exotic bonds. Between her thighs, a lovely lace g-string, in a floral pattern that matches the upper section of her corset, cloaks her warm goddess’s cunt from the view of the unworthy.

The creature whimpers involuntarily. For this insubordination he receives two more devastating slaps to the face.-You haven’t been fed for a few days, she says. I brought you something, thinking you might be appreciative enough to behave properly in my presence. But it looks like I was wrong. Perhaps a few more days of starvation will straighten out your attitude. Is that what you want?
The creature shook its head.
-Alright, then. One more fuck-up, and that’s it. You read me, you disgusting shit?
The creature nodded.
She spit in his face contemptuously.
-You better hope you can fly right, then, maggot.
From a large canteen, Vixen poured him a fresh bowl of water.
-Drink up, fuck-stick, she said.
Then she set another bowl on top of the box where he was kept. It was a weathered old wooden box turned on its side so that the top functioned as a door. It was just large enough to contain the creature when he was curled up into the tightest crouch possible. Time had stopped for him. He no longer had any idea how long she’d kept him here. All he seemed to realize now was how ungodly hot it was, and how he figured it would all be over sooner than later.
-You fucking stink! she said. But I guess that’s only natural for a fucking pig. She stood over him as he guzzled his water, flaunting the most exquisite body in the universe. In addition to her formidable lower body, her breasts were also beyond belief. Huge, perfectly round implants made her boobs look like two twin planets orbiting her upper body. The delicious floral top section of her corset could scarcely contain them as they bulged indescribably outward and upward.

Alright, slug, that’s enough.
She filled his water dish with enough water to last a few days if he was thrifty.
-Now for your exercise, she said. Follow me, close to my ass.
He crawled as quickly as his hands and knees would carry him, following behind her incredible ass as it swayed incomprehensibly in front of him. She led him around in circles a few times, and then back to the box, ordering him to ‘sit.’ The creature obeyed and beheld his mistress contritely.
-OK, mongrel, she said, all that stands between you and your meal is one brief moment of obedience. Are you going to be a good dog?
He nodded.
-Good. Now get up. On your feet.
It got harder and harder for him to stand as his interminable period of
confinement dragged on. This time he managed better than expected and now stood straight before his goddess.
-All you have to do, she said, is to worship my breasts for a count of thirty. You know the drill. Not one sound, and no trace of a fucking erection. Right?
He nodded.
-Here we go. Start counting.
He stared into the canyon of her enormous cleavage, watching those mountainous breasts heave intensely with her every breath. At the same time she used her face to intimidate him, lifting his chin up with her index finger and forcing eye contact with him. Her expression was raw power incarnate. He was already at twenty. She lowered his chin with that same index finger, back to her cleavage. She pushed him closer. Somehow he reached thirty without falling apart. Vixen could hardly believe he had done it.
-Hmmm. Very impressive. Only thirty more seconds to go. Back down on your knees, maggot.
The creature dropped down, petrified of what was sure to come. Vixen directed his gaze at her golden thighs.
-Thirty seconds, bitch. Look at my thighs intently as you smell their glorious fragrance. Not a fucking peep, and no erection. Here we go.

Her scent alone was enough to ruin him. She pulled him closer, within an inch or two.
-Don’t you touch me, you fucking piece of shit!
He didn’t even contemplate it. Now the power of her fragrant flesh, the sweet bouquet of her cunt, it all blended into a sexual potpourri the likes of which he’d never imagined. Somehow he held on. He passed ten. Eleven. Then she gently pushed his face back maybe an inch or two, directing his line of sight to her upper thigh. He bristled. That plump, powerful thigh was going to be too much. He felt the blood coursing into his cock. Working now with everything in him to hold back the moaning. Sixteen, Seventeen. Just then, she shifted her body weight ever so slightly, causing that fat thigh to quiver deliciously, jiggling like hell’s own Jell-O, an earthquake of flesh felling the very soul of the now helpless creature. He burst into tears, sobbing loudly, uncontrollably despite the fact that she instantly began slapping him viciously, ordering him to shut his cakehole. His cock was solid wood, spurting pre-cum in huge globs onto the ground between his legs.
-You fucking slimy maggot! She barked. Well, you just signed your own starvation papers, you goddamn slug! Back into your box! Go on!

She kicked him hard with her sharp high heels, goading him swiftly back into the swelter of his days-old shit and piss. And the heat. He might not survive it without nourishment.
-I want you to see what you passed up, she said, what your fucking foolish insolence costs you when you disobey me. This is what you would have eaten today!
She bent over in front of the box, holding the dog bowl down for him to see. In it was a savory mix of her own shit and piss from that morning, mixed with his favorite treat of all, her vomit.
-You see what I try to do for you, you pig?! After shitting and pissing for you, I
even took the trouble to stick my finger down my throat and puke up my breakfast for you. Then, I spend my valuable time bringing it all the way out here for you. But do you care? Of course not. Because you’re nothing but an inconsiderate, stupid fucking bitch of a maggot-infested mongrel-PIG, that’s why!
She slapped him again.
-Now back up, go ahead. Back your ass into your fucking box! And you can just stay there and meditate on your insipid behavior for a few more days. Then we’ll see if you’re deserving of being fed. And just to remind you of what you missed, I’m leaving the bowl right here in front of your box so you can smell it and consider your goddamned inexcusable actions here today!
She slid his water dish into the box and locked it with her padlock. Then she set the food bowl down angrily, just inches from the door. The creature could smell the glorious odor from these delightful fruits of the goddess’s body. He cried and whimpered endlessly until the ingredients in the bowl finally hardened the next morning. He shifted as much as he could in his tiny, dark wooden box, eventually passing out in puddles of his own excrement.