It is a warm day in Wildaron Forest. Amber Nightwind has been waiting for this day a long time. At last, the stars are right. Life as a Dryadani is a busy one. But lately she has been wishing for someone - someone she can Play with. After much study, she has determined that today will be the day. Stepping into her garden, she begins to pace out a circle. At each quarter point, she lights a small torch, picks a few flowers to weave into her long red hair, then recites a brief invocation. “Ohh, Powers of the East, come if you will, you blow so good! Ohh, Powers of the South, come if you will, you are so-o hot! Ohh, Powers of the West, come if you will, you are so wet! Ohh, Powers of the North, come if you will, you are so-o hard!” By the time she completes the circuit, she has gotten a bit hot herself, so she unbuttons her silken chemise, exposing her full round breasts. Standing in the center of the circle, she balances a little precariously on her red spike-heeled pumps, legs spread, and begins her prayer to Sharalisa. In another part of Wildaron, you, a thin melancholy Gwelfani, are taking a break from practicing your borashan. You are resting against a rainbalar tree, your long blond hair wisping over your shoulders. Although musicians are honored and in demand in Shaharasai, you sometimes feels restless and unfulfilled. Leaning back, you close your pale blue eyes for a moment, pondering your situation. Suddenly, the very air around you seems to thicken, swirl, and hum. You open your eyes, but there is nothing to be seen. You try to stand but your limbs won’t respond to your thoughts. You breathe in deeply, once, twice; trying to understand the situation. On you third breath, the air begins to clear. You find you are able to move, a little. You look down at yourself; your black boots are still visible under the edge of your golden robe. But by looking down instead of up, you are not prepared for what comes next. You are suddenly scooped up in a large hand, whose crimson fingernails form a threatening cage around you. “Ah, by my Lady Sharalisa, the spell worked! It worked!” a musical voice trills out. Looking at last upwards, you behold the face of the Dryadani Amber. She is truly magnificent, towering some twenty-five feet above where you are sprawled in her palm. Her full, ample breasts hang just across from where you sit, though each one is twice your height. “Long have I wished for just such a little toy to amuse myself with,” she continues. “And now I have you. Tell me, my little trinket, what is your name?” “T-Terry,” you stammer out. You have, in your most private moments, fantasized about a similar situation. But now that it is real and you are lying in her huge warm hand, you find the reality of your predicament quite overwhelming. “Well, Terry, I am Amber Nightwind, but you may address me as Goddess’, " she giggles. Her hand shakes a little as she says this, bouncing you slightly. “From now on, you are MINE. I can be a most loving Goddess, but you must do your best to please me at all times, is that clear?” You nod your head a little. You are not sure if you like this situation, but for now it seems best to play along. You cannot even see the ground from where you lie in her hand; who knows how far down it may be? “That’s good,” she says. “Now, for starters, let’s get rid of these clothes - you won’t be needing them anymore.” She grabs your left foot between the index and thumb of her other hand and pulls your boot off. “Hey!” you start to protest. But she is already pulling off the right one as well. “None of that now - you are supposed to please me, not the other way around.” Amber frowns down at you slightly. “Now, how does this robe come off?” She begins to prod at you, lifting the edge of your golden robe with her long fingernail. You struggle a little to keep it down - for despite your trepidation, the sight of the lovely Dryadani’s immense breasts has had its effect on you. You are not ready to reveal this to Amber; besides, your plans to escape will be complicated if you are naked. Still, she is intent on having her way. Grasping the hem of your robe, she succeeds in lifting it over your head, forcing you to raise your arms as the garment is pulled up, and at last, off. You are now completely nude and helpless in her giant hand. “Ahh, and what is this?” she smiles. “I see my tiny captive is savoring this after all!” With one tapered finger the size of your thigh, she strokes your erection as gently as she can. To you, however, this presses your manhood hard against your stomach. You momentarily forget all ideas of escape and lie back, letting her bring you to the height of arousal. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this, my dear. But I am ready for some enjoyment myself.” Amber ends her fingertip massage, instead gripping you firmly in her hand. Her tight grasp nearly knocks the wind out of you and bruises your ribs just a little. You can just manage to peer out over the top of her hand. She is carrying you towards a gargantuan castle whose misty spires you have seen soaring above the western clouds when conditions are just right. She enters a door in one turret and climbs the stairs, two at a time. This rapid ascent jounces you so severely you close your eyes to keep away the vertigo. When things settle enough, you open your eyes, just in time to find yourself being set into a golden birdcage. “Stay there just a moment, my pet,” Amber says breathily. “I won’t be a minute.” She steps over to a washstand and slithers out of her silken blouse. Seeing her standing there, running a moist cloth over her immense torso, you find your arousal returning. But more important, she has turned her back on you - perhaps now you can make your escape. You slowly make your way to the cage door. Fortunately, it is only latched, not locked. Peering out over the edge, you decide you might be able to leap down onto the red-cushioned sofa below. You swing out and down, dangling from the cage bottom to get yourself as close as possible. Unfortunately, just as you let go, the door swings shut with a clank!, alerting Amber. “Tsk, tsk. Didn’t I tell you to stay where you were?” Amber asks a little peevishly just as you drop into the cushions on the sofa. You try to hide behind a pillow, but she is too quick. Grabbing you around the middle, she shakes you a little. “That is no way to behave! Now -” she continues, “all that work in the garden has worn me out. I could use a foot massage..” She sets you down on the floor by her feet. She is wearing bright red pumps; their pointed spikes are as tall as you are. She crosses one huge shapely leg over the other, the sole of her foot hanging just above your head. “Look out below!” she laughs, as she slips her heel loose from the shoe. You narrowly miss being impaled on the spike as it swings forward. Letting the shoe slide off completely, she orders you to start rubbing her foot. “Rub it hard , little man,” she commands, “my feet are sore!” She shoves her foot towards you. It is even larger than you are. She slips off her other shoe, nudging you forward with her other foot. Seeing no way out of your predicament, you begin to rub her foot. She pushes it against you. “My feet are so-o hot and sweaty,” she complains. “Can you give them a tongue bath?” You look around for a way to escape this, but with one foot caging you in from behind and the other waiting in front, there seems little chance of that. “Go on!” she urges impatiently. So you stick out your tongue and begin to lick the bottom of her enormous foot. It smells of leather and sweat and something indefinable. You are soon intoxicated by the heady aroma and begin to lick all over her sole, pressing your slim body up against the wall of soft pink flesh. You are about to be carried away on waves of salty enchantment when she suddenly grasps you between her feet. Leaning back on the couch, Amber raises you up in the air, still firmly between her feet. “Oh-h, that was very nice,” she giggles. “I’m feeling much more relaxed now.” Beneath where you are suspended some forty feet in the air, Amber is a symphony of fire. Her dark red hair spills over her shoulders and onto her creamy round breasts, each capped with a strawberry nipple the size of your head. She is wearing a bright red miniskirt that stands out against the ruby red of the couch under her. With her legs raised like this, that little skirt has fallen back, revealing the sheer black panties underneath. Through them you can make out a tangle of reddish curls. You squirm a little, but not too much, for a fall from this height would surely kill you. Amber laughs up at you “Well, little one, I’m tempted to play’ with you right here. I’ve been waiting so long for this chance,” she says, running her hands over her breasts, squeezing them, making her nipples stand erect. “But I’ve a better place in the other room. Only I better make sure you’re safe for the journey; I’m not sure I can trust you yet” she frowns. With that, she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, pulling them down to just above where the thick curls begin. She bends her knees, bringing her feet just above where her hands now lie, the left one idly stroking her womanhood through the sheer black silk. With her right hand, she pulls the fabric out away from her body. Then, abruptly, she loosens her foothold on you, dropping you down so you land in the soft deep nest waiting there. With her right hand she reaches in and positions you before pulling the panties back into place. “Get used to it, dear,” she coos. “You’re going to be spending a lot of time there!” With that, Amber stands up, wiggling her hips a little to settle you into place. You are wrapped tightly against her enormous femininity, the moist black silk taut against your back. You are battling against your imprisonment, but there is no place for you to go
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