As a graduate student in a new city, I thought it would be best to apply for university housing. It was off-campus so at least we were away from the chaos of undergrad life. I was in an apartment meant for two but my original roommate moved out pretty early on in the lease. Thankfully, I had a fixed rate so I basically got the unit to myself for the same price. I knew they would fill it eventually and that’s how Thomas came to rule my life.
Thomas was nice, in his mid twenties I’d say. He was tall and had an athletic, muscly build. Short blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He carried himself with authority but certainly wasn’t an asshole off the bat. As a closeted gay, I was happy to have gotten at least an attractive roommate to sneak looks at from time to time, but I definitely wouldn’t try anything on this obviously straight man.
In general, the rooming situation was fine. He was a bit messy but cleaned up after himself if given enough time. He was funny too and we hung out frequently. I noticed that he could be a little domineering at times, usually with some nobody who made his life a bit more difficult. He just had this way of making them back down and getting what he wanted. It made my stomach flutter when he completely owned some jackass. He wasn’t especially dominant with me but there were certainly moments when I new he meant business in an argument and I capitulated so he wouldn’t get too heated.
He also loved my cooking. Whenever I made food he would stroll into the kitchen and tell me how good it smelled and hinted that he wanted some. I usually gave him some and in time I bought more food out of anticipation of him poking into my dinner. Whenever he complimented my meals I felt so good about myself and proud. He had a way of making you feel so valued that I loved about him.
I also noticed that he seemed to always have cash but never went to work. I don’t even think he had a job. He would say “it’s complicated” whenever I asked, but he just went to class, worked out, and lounged around when he was home. I figured he must be from a rich family but I never confirmed it.
One day, I was wading my way through a long stretch of Thursday classes when I got the glorious news that my last class had been cancelled. I made it home an extra couple of hours early because there was nothing to do on campus.
When I walked through the door I saw my roommate sitting on the couch with his shirt off (and rock hard abs on full display) and his bare feet up on the coffee table. One arm was positioned very dominantly exposing his armpit. I also saw his phone set up with a perfect head-on view of it all. Thomas put his arms down and looked a little embarrassed, certainly surprised that I was home early.
“What are you doing,” I asked with a blend of interest and judgement. He hesitated before responding, “Hey roommie, I didn’t know you’d be back so soon.”
I followed up with, “Dude, are you selling feet pics?”
He chucked a bit and said, “Well, sort of. It’s a little hard to explain.” As he said this I put my stuff on the kitchen counter. “I run a Twitter account where I kind of get paid by random people to like show my feet and muscles and stuff. I can be a little aggressive with my followers, but they can’t get enough of it,” he said with a devilish grin.
I was very confused. I might have been gay but I wasn’t very kinky. I mean I had never had sex and was scared to watch any hardcore porn, so I jerked off here and there to basic male on male stuff. I didn’t have much interest in feet, but I will say Thomas did have a nice pair. Hell, if I didn’t get to see them for free almost everyday I might even buy some pics they were that nice (especially with how attractive the rest of him was). I tried to process the idea that my roommate sold foot pics. But why?
“Wait so like people give you money and you just send them pictures of your feet?” I asked looking for a little more information. More out my own interest than with actual clarification.
“Yes and no. It’s called findom, and essentially I run a page and people, called subs, give me money because they think I’m better than them and deserve their cash. I post pics of me working out and my feet because that really turns them on. It’s pretty pathetic but it pays the bills. Well strictly speaking I have boys who do that for me, but you know what I mean.”
“Do you make a lot?” I asked out of genuine curiosity.
“Oh yeah, I made almost 100 grand last year,” he said rather nonchalantly.
My draw dropped. 100 grand! I’m working as an intern at some accounting firm in the city and barely making 30k. He sits around taking photos of his feet and made that much. This guy was smarter than I thought. “Why are you living here if you’re making that much?”
“Well, in truth, my parents don’t know I do this and I’ve kind of been saving up for a big place. But I’m glad you know now, you can help me film for the page because it’s hard to make videos by myself. I might throw you some profits too.”
He said this so casually, like it was natural that I would start helping him with his foot fetish empire. Of course I would, if only out of fascination. I didn’t really need the cash though and I would feel weird about taking it from random foot freaks obsessed with my roommate.
I shrugged my shoulders indicating that I didn’t have a problem with it and he smiled. “Great, we can film a vid right now, haven’t done one in a few days. Grab my phone and shoot it from behind the coffee table.”
I walked over to his propped-up phone while he put his feet back on the table and got into character. “Oh just so you know I can talk really harsh. These gay boys get so turned on by straight guys talking down to them and humiliating them. So don’t get freaked out. Also you need to get the phone lower so that my feet are right in front of the camera, and tilt it up a bit so it looks like their looking up at me, their cash Master.”
“Cash Master?” I said with the most derisive look and he just chuckled.
“Yeah that’s what we’re called, my subs call me Sir and everything. It’s fucking crazy how pathetic these losers are.”
His rhetoric was getting nastier by the minute but I was along for the ride and so I knelt down and held the phone just as he wanted it with his bare soles right in front of me.
“Hey betas,” he started off with a deep masculine voice. “Alpha Tom here with a message for you boys. I was at the gym today and worked up quite a sweat.” He sniffed his armpit as he said this and let out a “pfew” suggesting they smelled bad. “Don’t you just wish you were here to clean my pits and my sweaty soles clean? But you don’t get that honor without paying up. Remember who owns you bitches. Taxes are due tomorrow and I don’t want to have to remind you. Now get on your knees and serve your Master.”
I stopped recording and he smiled, asking how it looked. I was still in awe of what I just watched. He took it so seriously and exuded so much power in the video. I was kind of frightened by how dominant he could be but also a little turned on by it. I just couldn’t help the feeling that he was talking to me during all of it.
I gave him back his phone and said I had some work to do and went straight to my room. I laid on my bed for the rest of the evening trying to distract myself from whatever it was I felt earlier and of course didn’t get an ounce of work done.
The next day, I was only more curious about Thomas’s whole Cash Master situation and did some digging online for an “Alpha Tom.” There were tons of them, mostly unattractive middle aged guys with beards and a lot of body hair but I eventually found my roommate’s page and started scrolling. He had thousands of followers and his header and profile pic were pictures of him showing off his smooth soles. His bio read:
Alpha Tom | Dominant, Cash Master💸, Foot King🦶🏻, Key Master 🔐| I expect obedience and respect from all subs | Submit and serve your God faggots
He also had the handles to his only fans and a few money transfer apps on their too.
As I scrolled looking at his photos, reading his degrading tweets demanding money from “worthless subs” and watched a few of his videos of him calling the viewer a faggot while he flexed his muscles and showed off his feet, I was transfixed by it all. I couldn’t explain the weird attraction I had to the page and to him. He just felt so powerful and I could almost understand why these people worshiped him.
At the same time I was a little freaked out by his demeanor. It was so aggressive, and as a gay guy, I didn’t like that he called people fags and terrible names, no matter how weird their fetishes were.
And here I vacillated for a bit, between how wrong and inappropriate he was and remarking on his compelling attitude and dominance. All the while I scrolled through his page reading posts about gifts that his subs had sent him, and looking at pictures of him holding dirty shoes that a “faggot” needed to lick clean for him. He also talked a lot about the “fag taxes” he deserved for being a “straight alpha superior.” He had mentioned them during the video I took of him but I was so overwhelmed I didn’t even ask what he meant. No matter, his Twitter page made that very clear announcing every week that taxes were due on Friday and that he would not tolerate disobedient bitches who don’t want to pay him what they owe. The thought that he could order people to pay him for just being him and that they would do it blew my mind, and very much to my surprise I blew a load too. Without touching myself and just from photos and videos of his body and his arrogant voice, I creamed my jeans for my roommate. Was I just as pathetic as those fags he takes money from? I went right to bed, not wanting to deal with whatever the fuck just happened.
He didn’t say anything about his findom empire for a few days after I shot the video and I was way too embarrassed to bring it up having sunk down the rabbit hole that was his Twitter account. I even felt myself avoiding eye contact with him and keeping my head down when he was around. I mean I couldn’t look him in the eye after cumming to him humiliating “beta subs” and his perfect body. Every time I thought about it my dick grew a little and I got so anxious.
Thomas came home from the gym a few days later and asked if I could help him make another video. I was busy cooking and I was still so ashamed of myself for what I had done that I kind of mumbled out an answer which he took to mean yes. “Great, thank you! Whatcha cooking?” I muttered that I was making some chicken Alfredo which made him rub his stomach with a “yum. I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Um, well, I-I made more than I can eat so y-you can have some too if you want.” He smiled like I made his day and it relaxed me a bit.
“Thanks man. You’re such a great roommate,” he said with a ruffle of my hair. His approval made me feel really good and my comfort returned.
“So what’s this video about?” I asked.
“Oh, well that’s a long story and you’ll probably think it’s weird.”
I was certainly intrigued now. “Tell me, how bad could it be?” I said trying to play it cool. I didn’t want him to think I was eager to know more, but I really was.
“Alright, but promise not to judge me or anything.”
“So I’ve got this sub of mine who’s been really dedicated to me and he’s probably given me like 25k in cash at this point. Well today has been 1 year since he’s started serving me so I’ve gotten him a cake that I’m gonna stomp on. He’ll fucking love it.”
Seemed reasonable to me (and a little hot), I guess that’s the sort of thing that gets people going. Maybe me too, am I one of them? I cast the thought aside and finished the Alfredo. We ate together and he remarked on how good it was and devoured the garlic bread. I was truly glad that he enjoyed it.
After I cleaned up—he was never much help there—we got started on the video. He put the small cake on the floor that had “Congrats on 1 year Evan” written in icing with a little drawing of a foot. I was on my knees again but more out of instinct seeing as he didn’t tell me to. “Hey bitch boy Evan, congrats on being my little atm for a full year. You put $25,000 in my pockets because you know your place and you know it belonged to me anyway. Obviously, with the year to come, I expect even better service. So I won’t be happy until I take $30,000 of MY cash from your pathetic wallet. You’re gonna be working extra overtime for me and I want every penny of it to go to your Master. As a reward I’ve put some of my dirty gym socks in the mail for you and I’ve got another little treat right here.”
With that I panned the camera to the cake on the ground and watched with amazement and more than a little arousal as he crushed the cake with his bare feet, sending frosting shooting between his toes. After a few seconds he lifted his feet up and showed the soles covered in white frosting. “Oh I bet you’d love to eat this cake off your God’s feet, huh. Maybe next year, faggot.” He ended with a flash of his middle finger pointed at the camera and I stopped the video.
“Thanks a lot bro, can you get me some paper towels to clean my feet.” I ran up to get some, trying to hide my semi.
When I returned he started scraping the frosting off his soles and from between his toes. “Kind of a waste of a cake,” I said with a smirk.
“Well, feel free to eat it, but I doubt it will taste any good.” I didn’t mean to suggest that I wanted some but him telling me to eat the cake that he just stomped into the floor with his feet sent a shiver down my spine. “Hey, can you actually clean this off the floor for me. I really need to take a shower and get started on some work. I’ll owe you!”
I agreed and he ran off to take a shower. I started wiping the frosting and crushed cake crumbs off the ground, but couldn’t help myself from taking a swipe of it to taste. It just tasted like cake, surely the parts on his feet tasted different. Jesus, why was I thinking about this and why the hell did I just lick some frosting up to see if it tasted like his sweaty gym feet. I finished up cleaning and went into my room. I lied in bed scrolling through his findom page again. He had made quite a few updates since the last time I looked. I started touching myself and this time had an even stronger orgasm. Fuck, I am a pathetic little bitch. What am I going to do?
The next few days, I cooked like usual, always saving some for Thomas. I also found myself taking more initiative on chores, vacuuming, scrubbing the bathroom, washing the dishes (even his that he left in the sink). I also saw he started leaving some of his shoes around the living room and entry way. Or maybe they were always there and I just never cared to notice them. But for some reason I found myself attracted to them. He had a few pairs of sneakers and a pair of flip flops scattered about. I was curious to know what they smelled like. Truth be told, I had never sniffed my roommates socks or shoes so I had no idea how they smelled.
I knew he wasn’t home yet so I walked over to one of his beat up pairs of going-out shoes, the kind he wears to hit the bars and pick up chicks. He was an animal and had a different girl over seemingly every weekend. He was usually quiet but sometimes I could here him power fucking some bimbo. I bet these sneaks would be ripe with all the sweating he does at the bars, dancing and drinking. I brought the opening of one up to my nose and took a deep breath. My god were they raunchy. I never realized how much his feet must stink because they were pungent. I took a few more sniffs and I liked it. I slipped my tongue out and made contact with the insole where his heel rested and I immediately tasted the bitter dirt and salty sweat. Like the smell, I was shocked but it felt good, it felt right. I knocked myself out of a trance, reflecting on how pathetic I was sniffing and licking the inside of my roommates shoe. I put it down and went to do some work ignoring everything I had just done.
That night though, I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned thinking about Thomas’ foot sweat and the smell of his shoe. I thought about his dominant tone in the videos I had watched, of the way he stomped that cake with his feet, god it was so hot. I grabbed my phone and meandered back to his Twitter page. I was scrolling again catching up on whatever I missed: just some retweet games and a few demands for certain people to send him x amount or reimburse his lunch. I thought about how I understood the dominance aspect of it and even the photos of his body and feet, but I didn’t really get the money part.
Would I kiss his feet if he told me too? Sure. But what was the appeal of sending him money? I thought a bit and decided, there was no harm in trying it out and seeing what happened.
I quickly made a fake Twitter account. I hooked up my credit card to the account so I didn’t have to Cashapp him and risk him finding out it was me. I went back to his page and dm’ed him a short, “Hi Sir 🙏” thinking that would get his attention, though he might be asleep. Alas, he was awake and responded quickly.
AT: Tribute if you want to talk to me you know how this goes
ME: Sent! (It was only $10 but I didn’t know how much to do)
AT: Good boy. Now double it.
AT: How long have you been lurking for?
At this point I was scared. I didn’t really want him asking questions and I didn’t want to keep sending him my money. I didn’t get any rush from it but I was at least satisfied that he got it instead of me just wasting it on myself.
AT: Hello? I gave you an order, faggot.
I panicked and immediately deleted the account. God I was such an idiot. I put my phone on my desk and tried to get some sleep. But of course I was thinking about my roommate in the next room cursing the faggot that ghosted him, and I felt sick.
For the next week I was extra considerate, and went far out of my way to make up for being a lousy, good-for-nothing and teasing Thomas so unforgivably. I cooked extra special meals, his favorites, I cleaned the whole apartment, I even offered to do his laundry since “I only had a few things and didn’t want to waste the water.” A stupid excuse since the machine had load settings. At one point he jokingly remarked that I could clean his room too since I was on such a mission. I needed no other invitation.
I went into his room for probably the first time since he moved in. It wasn’t terribly messy but definitely less neat than mine. He had some dirty clothes lying around, his bed was unmade and desk disorganized. I spent about an hour getting everything right as rain and of course took generous sniffs of his socks and underwear. I even stole a pair of his workout socks, stale with sweat, for later. I felt guilty about taking advantage of him, but I couldn’t control my desperation for his scent.
When I finished folding and putting away his laundry, and told him everything was straight he gave me a superior smirk and a gracious thanks. I asked if there was anything else I could do, certainly sounding like the bitch I was and as luck would have it, he did have further use for me. The term “use” as I employ it here is of real accuracy because nowadays I just feel like a tool that provides use for him. And I like it.
He said he needed me to film another video for him, and that this one might freak me out a little. I doubted it but he told me to just film and not interrupt him (rather authoritatively too). I took the phone, and my position on my knees before his godly propped up feet. He was laid back on the couch which curled his washboard abs connecting his good-looking face and impressive chest to his strong stretched out thighs and legs. This man really was an alpha. He held in his hand a small metal contraption, one that I had never seen before, and twirled it in his fingers. I started rolling.
“Well well well, you lucky fags. I have here in my hand a cage that’s going on one of your puny little dicks. One of my faithful chastity subs is no longer in my stable of dickless cucks which means there’s an opening for one of you homos. The rules are simple. I send you this cage, you put it on, and I control when you get an orgasm from that pathetic clit of yours. Well, more like if you get an orgasm (hehehe). The competition is sure to be tough but I will be rewarding the boy who impresses me the most with my gift of total control. You know in your heart that fags like you don’t deserve to cum without my permission. The competition starts now and everything you do will affect who I decide gets locked up. Good luck, and get to serving.”
I was rock hard having watched him in real time announce plans to take control of someone’s dick. Like before though, it felt like he was speaking directly to me, like he might slap that cage on me and rule my life with an iron grip. I didn’t even know this was a thing, that people could sacrifice their orgasms for their Masters. That is the ultimate devotion. I sat their thinking about how much I wanted that. Even though it made no sense to me, being hard at the idea of suppressing my sexual arousal, I somehow knew that I needed it. I needed Thomas, excuse me Master Thomas, to take my dick from me and lock it up. To control me absolutely so I could better serve him. He is an Alpha Man, I am faggot, I belong under his thumb and beneath his feet…
“Hello…What’re you thinking about?” Thomas interrupted me. I realized I had just been sitting there brain dead thinking about all of this, staring at his beautiful soles and I got myself together and handed him his phone back. I couldn’t even look at his face, I had to keep my inferior glare to his feet. “I know it’s pretty fucking weird, and sorry i didn’t really give you enough warning but some of these queers just love being sexually denied and it, urrgh, I feel so powerful denying them the ability to even touch their tiny dicks while I beat off and fuck girls whenever I want. You know what I mean?” I kept staring at his soles and I then I felt the uncontrollable urge to touch his godly feet. To just reach out and feel his soft warm soles in my hands.
“You like how those feet feel, boy?” he asked so condescendingly.
“Yes Sir.” And I really did. I felt so pathetic but I also felt like this was where I was meant to be.
“Ah you already know your place, that’s good. Say, why don’t you give my feet some pecks to show your love for them, huh?” I lunged to his soles and planted kiss after kiss, while Thomas just laughed at how pathetic his faggot roommate was.
After a few minutes of rubbing and kissing, he took his feet away from me and I was awash with emptiness and despair. I looked up to his face, his eyes boring into my soul. “Look if you’re gonna be one of my subs, you need to follow the rules of all my other subs. I’m a Cash Master, that’s how this works. If you want to serve me, you have to pay.”
“But I don’t have a lot of money Sir, my internship is almost over, I-I don’t know wha…”
“Hey, I can help you with all that.” He said this so reassuringly, like he actually cared. To think that he seemed so generous for helping me figure out how he could take my money. “You know what you can do, you can pay my rent with your school loan, it’ll go right to the bursar’s office and you don’t have to do much of anything. I mean it’s a lot, but if anything you should probably be paying more given how you get to serve me. Just think, none of my other fags get to cook me dinner or clean up after me. Hell, you just gave me a foot rub which is more then any of them ever got to do.”
Suddenly, I realized just how right he was, and how honored I should be. None of them were this close to him, none of them could serve him so intimately. “Here’s what we’ll do, you’ll keep doing all your little chores for me, in exchange for paying my rent and your weekly fag tax. Once in a while, when you’ve been good, I’ll even let you worship my feet. How does that sound?”
“Perfect Master!! Oh my god thank you Master!” I was on the verge of tears.
“Now, I will have to lock this cock cage on you because I can’t have a faggot getting off to the smell of my laundry or looking at me when I get out of the shower, that’s fucking disgusting. I’m afraid it’s nonnegotiable.”
“Of course Master,” I beamed. “I don’t deserve to cum without your permission, please lock up my pathetic dick, please stomp on my sissy balls with your big strong feet. Please Master, please.”
“Jesus Christ, you’re one of the most pathetic fags I’ve ever seen. Don’t worry boy, I’ll cage that clit and beat your little fag balls every chance I get.”
“Thank you Master, thank you so much Master.”
“Now let’s get this cage on you, it’s one of the smallest I could find online but that shouldn’t be a problem for a weak cocksucker like you.”
He ordered me to strip naked, how I would be in the apartment from now on, and he crammed my dick into the tight cage. My balls were bulged outward, perfect for Master to strike when he wanted, and my dicklet strained in its metal confines. But it felt right.
“Great,” Master said with a slap to my nuts, causing me to moan out in pain. “Why don’t you go make yourself useful and get my shoes nice and clean while I watch the game. Make sure to do the bottoms too. And, obviously, you should be using your tongue, homo. But don’t fag out on them too much, boy, when I call you to grab me a beer I want it done immediately, no dilly dallying.”
“Yes Master, thank you Master,” I said rushing over to start on his shoes. God I hope when I’m done he’ll use my back as a footrest to watch the game. He is such a Superior Alpha Male!
And so the story continues today. Master Thomas showed me where my place was and ensures I stay there, serving him as he pleases. I learned to be a good and devoted slave for him and thank him every day for taking ownership of me, a pathetic faggot, desperate for his control.
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