makoto

"Come here."

Your feet move on their own in response to Makoto Niijima's voice. As you stare into the towering student council president's glittering scarlet eyes, her will seems to flow through your muscles and bypass your brain entirely, leaving the thought-canceling haze of her hypnotic stare to cloud your mind and engulf all your senses. The enormous, twelve foot-tall amazon sits down and presses one of her huge shoes against your chest, staring down expectantly as she taps her toes against your collarbone.

"You can remove my shoes on your own, right, slave? You're not quite that weak." Her smirking grin doesn't waver at your flustered, stuttering reply; a few more taps from her toe is enough to bring another pained squeak out of your throat. She chuckles again, leaning back in her chair and stretching languidly as she watches you struggle with the weight of her giant shoes.

The urge to obey this powerful woman who towers over you far too easily is overwhelming, so you scramble onto hands and knees, then slide clumsily across the carpet until you come within range of her footwear. They are massive things—black leather with pointed toes and wide soles, polished so shiny they might have been lacquered. Grasping one by its sides, you tug with both arms, straining hard against the immense weight, bracing your feet apart to maintain leverage as you pull on her shoe.