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~A New Story	By : keithcompany Category: Titles in the Public Domain > Gulliver's Travels Views: 2985 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, based on Gullivers Travels by Jonathan Swift. Any resemblance to person(s) living or dead is purely coincidental.

Chapter List
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For two days, Toby did nothing but thank her. He was never specific, so she wasn't sure if he was grateful for the sex, for opening his eyes to the possibilities of a Lilliputian lover, or for stopping the sex before causing permanent damage, either physical or neurological.
She'd take any of them as a compliment. And she figured both of them needed to heal, so she wasn't too upset at the distance he kept.
But for two days after that, he acted normally. Frighteningly so. He wrote, finishing his giantess story and starting a new one. He carried her around as usual, resting in his pockets or his hand. The meals were the same and the evening drop off at her dollhouse was absolutely standard.
And he took no liberties. That bothered Twyla. Most men, right after finding a new sex partner, suddenly act as if they've become shareholders. They want to touch, to feel, to rub against.
Toby remained a perfect gentleman, Maker damn him to a cold and yolkless Hell.
She suspected his religious background hampered his means of expression. Poor guy couldn't just enjoy the moment, the options, the partner, he had to... Oh. Oh, no, was that it?
He couldn't deal with her as expected, so he couldn’t deal with her at all?
He couldn't introduce her to friends, to take her to work, or take her out. So he solved the 'problem' represented by his tenant by completely ignoring it?
Huh. She wondered if Brobdingrag's giant men were complete idiots or if it was only two out of three species...
Well. Once more it was up to her to jostle her friend out of his complacent rut. She made up her mind to pounce the minute he came home from work and watched the clock.
The door opened an hour before he usually got home, though, she was still upstairs, reading the Duke's philosophy books and sharpening her arguments.
"Twyla?" he called.
"Upstairs!" she screamed.
"'Kay," he replied. And stayed downstairs.
"Maker-fucker!" she snapped. She ran across the bedroom, through the door, down the hall. She rested at the top of the stairs, listening. He was in the kitchen. Sounded like he was laying out dinner.
Chores before even saying hello? Oh, even if they weren't lovers any more, there was basic COURTESY! She fumed and started jumping down the stairs.
He continued to putter around as she reached the bottom and started across the hall carpet. She shot into the kitchen, skidding to a stop on the linoleum.
The lights were off. But there were torches lit on the table. Wait, candles. Big giant candles. "Toby?" she called.
She never heard him move until a hand was lifting her up into the air.
She squealed and kicked in reflex, but his grip was secure.
He stepped to the table and sat down. She glanced up at his face but could only see the torches reflecting in his glasses.
On the table, though, things were clear. Candles lit up a tablecloth she didn't remember seeing before. There was a picnic area set on one side, a covered plate, a bathtub and a strangely shaped table.
And a privacy curtain. What the egg?
"Toby? What's going on?"
"I just thought I'd take a moment to, well, pamper you." He lowered her behind the privacy screen. Her silk robe hung there, the one he liked to call a kimono. When had he gotten her robe out of the dollhouse?
"You can change, if you want," he invited her. Slightly dazed, she started to unbutton her blouse.
Most men, a phrase she was starting to think didn't apply to Toby, they'd seen her naked once, they felt they were due to see her naked as much as possible.
This moment of privacy... Prostitutes didn't normally get spontaneous expressions of respect.
She forgot all about wondering when he'd been in her rooms.
She stepped out and looked up. He'd removed his glasses and smiled down at her.
A finger was extended and she placed her hand upon it. He led her to the oddly shaped table.
"This is a massage table," he said. "You lay on it, with your head in the little donut, there. And uncover whatever you're comfortable with."
"You know I'm-" she started to say.
"It's entirely up to you," he insisted. "I can put a towel over your butt once you lay down."
She arranged herself on the table and he did lay one of her towels across her bare behind.
Then he placed a bowl of some oil nearby and dipped his fingertips. He rubbed, gently but diligently. The great powerful lumps glided across her skin, outlining her skeleton.
He didn't work his thumbs into her flesh as a Mildendo masseur would have, but the professionals she knew didn't make her feel pressure-welded to the bed's cushion.
She wondered if she should have said her goodbyes before this, fearing she'd be so relaxed she'd forget to breathe.
Well, Toby would fix that, she was sure.
The fingers worked up and down, covering her whole body once. Then he started to talk as he went for a second lap. Whispering things about how beautiful she was, how smart, how sorry he was for taking so damned long to see what a wonder she was.
All while turning everything from neck to ankles to a warm, mushy jam.
He finally finished and apologized. "I can't figure out how to warm up stones to place on your spine, not without hurting something."
"Thassss fiiiiiine," she murmured. Then he draped her with a blanket that was nearly as hot as his body.
"So I put this inside my shirt... How's that?"
She meeped, tiny little whimpers of acknowledgment. He smiled and took the oil away.
Twyla rested there for about forty bazillion years. Long enough for her stomach to master the power of speech and inform her that food would go good with all this pampering.
She tried to raise her head and mostly just flopped her hands over the side of the bed.
"Awake? You want to wash off the oils or just go straight to the food?" he asked.
"I'm hungry," she said. Asked. Begged.
He tipped the bed and slid her into his hand. She lay fairly limp as he dressed her in her robe once more, playing dolly.
But his gaze was always at her face, looking into her eyes. He was her servant, not a lover, and she loved him for it.
As long as he was a lover later, that is.
Dressed, if slightly sweaty, she was placed on a lounge chair. He lifted the cover to reveal cold meats and fruits, all cut into the tiniest of slivers.
And he fed her where she lay. Chewing was her only effort, and that was about her limit at the moment.
Strawberry juices dripped on her cleavage, but he told her not to worry, the bath was coming.
She only vaguely wondered why people worried about things...
She finally shook her head, stopping him from feeding her another bite. He stood and walked away from the table. She heard water flowing and wondered about the bath.
He came back and poured hot tap water into the tub. Then he peeled the kimono off of her, folding it gently and leaving it on the massage table. He lifted her and cupped her in one hand. She lay limp as he poured water over her body, then dipped his fingers in soap.
He covered her in suds, carefully ensuring all the oils and fruits and sauces on her skin were lifted.
Water coursed over her body as he gently rinsed her, then finally lowered her into the bathtub for a soak.
She lay there as he cleaned up the table. Twyla was sure her bones were dissolving in the water and floating away. The only thing she did was try to identify the smells coming off the water she was steeping in.
"Um...Cinnamon... And... Lavender... And... Lavender..."
"Very good," he told her, pouring a bit more water in to restore the heat.
The giant moved in and out of her vision until he finally just stayed there, smiling down as she tried to focus.
He lifted her out and pat her dry. Then he rolled her in one of the Lilliputian blankets.
She snuggled down in her cocoon as he carried her upstairs and into the bedroom.
Toby lowered her to the pillow on his bed. He undressed and climbed into bed beside her.
Then he cuddled the entire pillow to his chest, breathing slowly and deeply across her little nest.
"Are we gonna have sex?" she asked.
"We can. Or we can do that tomorrow," he said. "I went to a little effort to get you relaxed. But if you want..." He reached for the blanket.
"Nnnnnnnnn," she moaned. "You'd.... You'd leave this whole evening just for me?"
"That's the idea, "he said. "Figure most of the time, you get pampered only to butter you up for sex afterwards."
"Toby, prostitutes only get pampered when they retire to Ezzuido Beach with blackmail money." She sighed. "This? Concentrating on me and taking care of me and not demanding sexual compensation? That's..." She sniffled. "That's the loveliest thing anyone's ever done for me."
"Well, I thought may-" He stopped as she threw off the blankets. "Twyla?"
"That makes me hot!" she growled. "C'mere, stud."
"Are... Are you sure?" he asked.
"You left the choice to me," she shouted. "I've choiced!" She spread her legs and stroked her thighs. He still hesitated. She rolled off the blanket and did a headstand.
He lowered his head, gently nipping at her feet and legs with his lips. She giggled as he slowly drew her up into his mouth.
He licked and sucked, lifting her head free of the pillow. Her feet kicked at his tongue, nearly gagging him. He forced them to his cheeks with his tongue, trapping them with his jaw.
Then he laved her pussy with the very tip of his tongue, sucking on every square inch of her body from the pubic bulge to her toes.
She squealed, flexing her feet but unable to kick. He'd spread her so wide... She was open to his slightest touch, caress and ...and.... She screamed, arching her back and waving back and forth like a the clapper of a slow bell.
When she stilled, he let her slip out, draping the pillow.
She felt him wipe her clean and wrap her in a new blanket.
Upside down and blurry, he smiled at her. "Now will you relax and take the night off?" he asked.
"Abbuba fwah," she muttered, drifting off to a deep, sated sleep. He hugged her as close as he dared and watched over her for the night.
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