Texas Fag

Young sub boy inferior to alpha males. Here to obey, serve, and worship.

[portaavions-deactivated20190105]

[patheticgafag]

Huh, that’s an interesting offer man. 

So you’ll really keep my place clean, do my laundry and chores, run errands and grocery shop for me in exchange for getting shoved around a little and treated like shit? 

You got a deal. Kiss this bicep to seal it

[boss-mydominantyoungerboyfriend]

I’m fucking pathetic

[hornydomking]

You are. And that’s why I get so hard when using you. Match made in heaven. And I’m the God.

[subfootboii]

I got the call from reception just after noon; room 412, AC unit down. I grabbed my kit and headed up, hoping it was a simple fix. Middle of summer, guest in the room. Nobody's patient when it's hot.

I knocked. A few seconds passed before the door swung open.

He was tall and built. Shirtless, dark pants, a chain on his neck. Tattoos down one arm.

"AC guy?"

"Yes, sir. I mean Mr. Langford. Here to take a look. Sorry for the inconvenience."

He said nothing to that. Just stepped aside.

I set my toolbox down beside the unit and got to work. It was only when I crouched to open the panel that I noticed him settled into the chair across the room, feet propped on the coffee table, eyes on the TV.

His feet were on the table directly in my eyeline. I looked back at the panel.

The filter was clogged. Not surprising for a unit this age. I pulled it out, set it aside, and reached for my tools. Standard job. Twenty minutes, maybe less.

The machine hummed back to life, unsteady at first, then settling.

I should have been done.

Instead I found myself slowing down. Rechecking things that didn't need checking. I told myself it was thoroughness.

His feet hadn't moved. Neither had he. The TV murmured something I couldn't follow.

I shifted my weight to reach the side panel and his feet came back into my line of sight. Wide soles. The arch, clean and deep. Toes that sat naturally, unhurried, like everything else about him.

I looked at the panel.

I looked back.

He still hadn't looked at me.

My work was done. The AC running steadily, cold air already pushing through the vents.

"All finished, Mr. Langford. Just running a few final checks."

He didn't reply.

I looked at his soles where they rested against the table edge, facing me. I had nothing left to do. But I reached for my screwdriver anyway, found a panel screw, unscrewed it, and screwed it back. Bought myself another minute.

I did it again.

Every few turns I'd glance over. Just the soles. The way the arch curved where it lifted off the table. The weight of him behind them, completely unbothered.

I should have packed up ten minutes ago.

Instead I let myself look one last time. My mind drifted away, imagining his foot on the back of my neck, my face against the floor, his weight settling on me like I was something to rest on. Like I was furniture.

I stayed there too long. When I came back, Mr. Langford was looking at me.

He hadn't moved. Hadn't said anything. He'd just been watching. Long enough that I didn't know when it started.

"I wondered how long that would take."

I froze.

My hand was still on the screwdriver. I hadn't moved. Couldn't.

He hadn't said it with anger. That was the part that made it worse. No threat in his voice, no shift in his posture. He was still reclined, feet still on the table, like he'd said something completely unremarkable.

I didn't move.

He didn't say anything. Just looked at me, then down at the floor beside the coffee table. A small tilt of his head. That was all.

I should have stood up. Gathered my tools. Said something professional and left.

Instead I crawled on my hands and knees, to the spot he'd indicated, and when I got there I didn't know what to do. He put his heel on top of my head and pressed down. My forehead touched the floor.

His feet rested on my back after.

He went back to the TV.

I don't know how long I stayed like that. Long enough that my knees ached.

Then his soles stomped the back of my head a few times. Then I got a kick that flipped me over to my back.

He stood. Stepped on me without looking down. Walked toward the bathroom. At the door he paused, and without turning around he pointed two fingers, toward the exit.

Then the bathroom door closed.

I picked up my toolbox and left.

[malestarsfeet]

[permanently-warped]

“OK you’re going to repeat after me. I’m a man, I’m a person, I deserve basic respect. Just keep saying it, alright?”

“I’m a man, I’m a person, I deserve basic respect.” My voice shakes a little, but he looks pleased. While I sit there kneeling he looks at me, and I realize he’s waiting.

“I’m a man, I’m a person, I deserve basic respect.” His expression is blank now. I can’t quite get a read on him.

“I’m a man, I’m a person, I deserve basic-” his foot kicks me square in the jaw. I fall to the floor, eyes welling with tears automatically. When I pick myself back up he’s sitting there waiting. A single tear runs down my cheek, I see him trying not to crack a smile.

“I’m a man, I’m a perso-” He begins rubbing his sweaty soles across my mouth, the other lands on the top of my head and starts rubbing too.

“What was that?”

“I’m a man, I’m a p-” I feel his toes cram into my mouth. One of his toenails scratches the inside of my gums as he jams them inside. I fall to the floor on my back, I barely realized I started sucking his toes. The heel of his other foot presses deeply onto my balls, a dull pain quickly ramps up until I’m screaming. At least I would be if his foot wasn’t gagging me.

“You want it to stop, keep talking boy.”

I try to enunciate around his toes, “Mm mm mmph…” He presses harder on my balls and tells me to try again. I have to pull my head up to try and speak, he wiggles his foot a little deeper into my skull. I try to say it two more times but fail pathetically.

He removes his foot from my mouth but keeps the other crushing my balls. He looks down at me all the way on the ground and flourishes one of the soles above me, “I got a nice present for you if you can correct the sentence.”

I stare up at his perfect sole and tell him the truest words I’ve ever spoken, “I’ll never be a man, I’m not a person, you deserve all the respect in the world, Sir.”

He smiles triumphantly, its like a wave of warmth from seeing his approval. I’m commanded to all fours, I take my position excitedly. His heavy feet feel weigh down my back so much. It must be exhausting having to walk around with this much power at his feet. I’m the luckiest not-man not-person in the world.

[subfootboii]

With the start of classes I decided to take advantage of the university gym. I'd never trained before but I hadn't expected to feel so out of place. I could barely lift anything and I noticed people glancing at me every now and then. I tried to stay in my corner and figure things out quietly.

There was one guy who was always there when I went. Tall, built, looked like he'd been athletic his whole life. He'd look at me for a few minutes at a time without dropping it. Not glancing, just watching. I started going less because of it. I couldn't explain why it bothered me as much as it did. It just did.

On one of my visits I walked up to a machine and he was already heading toward it. I stepped back and told him to go ahead. He stopped, looked at me, and shook his head.

"You were here first."

I sat down and started. He stayed standing behind me the whole time, looking down at me while I worked through the set. I kept losing count. When I finished I stood up and he'd already moved on like nothing happened.

I didn't go back for a few days after that.

I went back the following week. He was there. He glanced over once and then went back to his sets. That was it. It went on like that for a while with nothing said between us.

That was until a Friday morning. Right before I left, Luke approached me, towering over me.

"You. Come by my place Saturday. I'll text you the address."

"For what-"

He slipped a piece of paper into my hand with a number on it and walked out without another word.

I spent the rest of the day turning it over in my head. That night I texted the number. A few minutes later I received an address and a 10:00 AM. Nothing else.

I barely slept. The next morning I got ready and was at his door at exactly ten.

Luke opened the door in a tank top and shorts. He didn't say a word. He just looked at me, then looked to his right, then went back to the couch.

At the wall to his right was a collection of cleaning supplies. Broom, mop, sprays, a bucket. Just sitting there waiting.

I stood in the doorway for a moment.

"I really don't know what to do right now."

No reply. He was already on his phone, legs stretched out, feet propped on the armrest.

The apartment was bigger than anything I'd seen a student live in. Comfortable, lived-in, clearly his. Also clearly a mess. Dishes in the sink, dust on the shelves, trash that had been sitting too long. His rugby kit was thrown over the back of a chair in the corner. I stood there another minute until I understood what he wanted.

I swept first, working around his furniture while he didn't acknowledge me once. Then the floors, the counters, the dishes. I took the trash out and came back and did the surfaces again properly. A few hours of moving quietly through someone else's space while they lay there like I was part of the background.

When I was done I came back to the living room.

"I'm done. Is there anything else?"

He wiggled his toes.

I stared at him.

He wiggled them again.

It took me a minute. Then I walked over to the couch, got on my knees, and wrapped both hands around his foot.

They were big. long soles, long toes. I pressed my thumbs into his arch and started massaging, he exhaled through his nose and kept scrolling.

After a while he pulled his feet back, got up without a word, and went to his room. The door closed behind him. I stood there for about ten minutes and then let myself out.

He texted me the next morning. I was there by eleven.

The apartment was mostly clean from yesterday so I was done in under an hour. Surfaces, a few dishes, nothing major. I worked quietly and he lay on the couch exactly as he did yesterday.

When I finished I came back to the living room. He wiggled his toes without looking up. I got on the floor and started on his feet.

After a while he pulled them back and sat up straight. He put his phone down on the cushion beside him, looked at me for a moment, then reached into his shorts and pulled them off.

His cock was right in front of me, semi hard. He didn't look at me. Didn't say anything. Just waited.

I stayed on my knees and moved forward.

He picked his phone back up before I even started. I held his massive cock in my hand first and then started. I gagged a bit but kept going. After around fifteen minutes he pulled out and got his shorts back on.

He stood up, adjusted himself, and went to his room. I stayed on the floor for a moment and then got up and let myself out.

I didn't go back to the gym that week.

Thursday night at half past midnight my phone lit up. 1:00 AM. Nothing else.

I got up, got dressed, and drove over.

He opened the door and walked back inside without a word. I followed and closed it behind me. He went to the bedroom and I understood that was where I was supposed to go too.

He pointed at the edge of the bed. I didn't understand so I just sat there. He then calmly flipped me over so my stomach was on the mattress and my legs on the floor.

He slid my pants down. I understood what was coming.

He was calm about it. Held my waist and went in raw. No warning, no adjustment. I was crying quietly by the time he found his rhythm but I didn't move away.

After fucking me for a while, he pulled out and came on the floor. Then he was on the bed beside me, shorts back up, phone in hand. Like I was already gone.

I lay there for a minute and then got up.

I found a cloth in the bathroom, came back, and cleaned the floor. He didn't look up.

Then I let myself out.

He texted me two days later. I was there by noon. I cleaned, I got on the floor, I did what was expected. That was what I was now. We both knew it.

[22back]

Adam was the last person you expected to see in your hotel room right before your wedding, you guessed your future wife had let him since she never refused anything he demanded of her, he had made himself comfortable in the room, with a drink in his hand and a smirk when you walked in.

“Ugh hey Adam, this room isn’t for guests the ceremony is at th-“

He cut you off before you could finish “obviously I know this room isn’t for guests since I’m the only one here, I thought I’d do you a favor and have this conversation with you alone, since this might be your wedding day and all that”

Your mind starts to race, you’ve been avoiding being alone with Adam since you’ve known about him, afraid what he might say to you, embarrassed both of you knew he was fucking your fiancé before you met her and still is.

“Oh well I guess that’s nice of you thanks, what did you wanna talk to me about?”

“You never asked for my blessing to marry Amy did you”

“Well I never thought I would need your blessing to marry her”

“Well you’re fucking mistaken, you knew she’s been riding my dick for 3 years now, Amy is a good fuck, obedient, doesn’t complain and she got you to do all the boyfriend shit so she doesn’t bother me with that shit, and you know she wouldn’t marry you if I told her not to right? You realize that?”

You were confused by the conversation and how comfortable he was telling you all this about the woman you’re supposed to marry in an hour, but you also knew he was right, Amy would call off the wedding the second he tells her to, you had to find a way to save yourself from all this embarrassment.

“You’re right Adam, you’ve been here before me and I should’ve asked it slipped my mind, but please don’t do this, I love Amy and want to marry her more than anything please give me your blessing Adam”

His smile gets bigger “I knew you’d know the right thing to do, you’re a good cuck, and the bitch can do worse than you so I’ll tell you what, she told me how much you make, 50% of that will be transferred to me every month and I’ll let you go through with this thing”

50% of your income is a lot of money, you start to consider it for a second but you realize you can’t let yourself be humiliated in front of all your friends and family.

“Yes, okay, I can do that”

“Smart move”

You realize how desperate you must’ve sounded because he starts to push even further.

“Make sure you don’t miss a month cuz I’ll be quick to make that call, considering how generous I’m being with you, you’re gonna address me as Sir from now on”

You nod your head thinking about the possibility of losing your wife.

“Alright, thank you and I’m sorry for not asking for your blessing before” you say trying to calm him down and get the day to go smoothly.

“That’s not how you thank and apologize to a man” he said and he extends his barefoot to you, he doesn’t need to tell you what to do, you know what you have to do to keep your wife, you get on your knees, kiss his feet and say “thank you Sir”

“Good boi, I’ll send Amy tonight when I’m done emptying my cum in her”

[malefeetislife]

Thick & manly ❤️‍🔥

[smellytoes88]

I’m gonna write the horniest story about this sexy guy’s perfect smelly rank feet

[smellytoes88]

Rob lives across the hall from me in our apartment building. He works long hours in construction so we rarely pass each other by. But I always look forward to bumping into him because he’s so damn hot.

Probably my favorite thing about Rob, though, is that he has a specific habit of leaving his heavy work boots outside his door in the apartment hallway. What’s more, he usually leaves his worn socks tucked into them. We’re the only ones who live on our floor of the triple decker and we’ve discussed leaving stuff on our landing, so he knows I’m cool with it, especially in the winter months with all the salt and sand tracking. But he likes to leave them year-round - usually, he leaves all his shoes there, not just his boots.

From the first time I moved in I knew I would enjoy my time there. This is because the primary reason Rob left his shoes and socks out on the landing, I soon learned, was because of his huge foot odor problem. His boots and socks STANK. His on-and-off girlfriend can’t stand having them in the apartment when she stays there while they’re together, and he probably doesn’t want them stinking up his place when he has girls over when he and his girl are apart. In fact when I first visited the apartment while looking for a new place, the then-tenant of my apartment even warned me about it. “If you sign the lease here, just know that the other guy on the floor, Rob, leaves his boots out here in the hall … and they really smell.” He didn’t have to tell me … the smell was the first thing I noticed about the apartment hallway! Rob happened to walk out while I was there, and I saw how hot he was - and I felt the overwhelming desire to sniff his boots! In fact … it wasn’t a deciding factor, but it did maybe tip me over to renting here over other places.

Well now I’ve been living here about six months and Rob’s boots and socks are my favorite thing about this place. Rob’s job starts before dawn so he’s always in bed pretty early - which gives me plenty of opportunity to sneak into the hallway, sniff his boots, and take his socks into my apartment to huff on and jerk off to - with plenty of time to put them back when I’m done.

The first time I did this was one of the hottest experiences of my life. It was winter, so Rob was using his heavy duty boots, which evidently really made his feet sweat. Damn … when I lifted his socks out of his boots, they were crusty and actually heavy with sweat! I carefully put them in my pocket then held up his boot to my face, stuck my face in, and huffed deeply on them. Fuck … they were still warm, and the air I huffed was moist. The smell was deep and pungent. Rob must have had some smelly feet … but the boots were nothing compared to his socks. When I got back to my room to sniff and jerk off, my head spun when I put his socks to my face. They were rank!! Especially around the toes! I came in just two or three minutes sniffing them …. The first time. I jerked off to them three times that night before returning them.

I started doing this every night. And I noticed at least one contributing factor to Rob’s smelly boots and socks. He wasn’t just leaving his socks to dry out … I got to know his socks very well, and realized that he was wearing the same pair multiple times in a row … once I counted two weeks before he switched pairs.

This went on for a while. Every time I bumped into Rob my dick grew hard thinking about how good his socks stank. But one night, a few months ago, something happened. Rob caught me in the act. I was doing my nightly huffing of his boots when he stepped out of his apartment door. He caught me nose deep in his boots, his socks clenched in my hand!

I started to apologize. “I’m sorry, I just … uh …” but I didn’t have a good excuse. “I was just uh … there was a bit of a weird smell in the hallway and I was just wondering where it was coming from …”

Rob clearly wasn’t buying it. “You had your nose pretty deep in there buddy,” he said, “and you’re holding on to my socks there pretty tight.”

Damn. I tried to explain, “oh yeah … uh, well … it’s just …”

“It’s just … that you’re a kinky little freak who likes to get off on my nasty boots and socks?”

Oh man. He didn’t seem too happy. “Sorry Rob … I promise it won’t happen again …”

He gave me a pretty scary look. “Yeah you better hope it doesn’t.”

I started putting his boot and socks which I realized I was still holding down onto the floor. Then he spoke again “that is, unless you’re willing to make an arrangement.”

I looked up at him. “What sort of arrangement?”

“You can sniff up my nasty boots and socks … if you pay up. And agree to do some chores for me. I work some pretty tough hours doing rough work and I could use some help around the house especially since my girl and I broke up a month ago.”

He didn’t have to ask me twice. That very evening I came into his apartment to start, after my first payment - a full case of beer and some weed. He wasn’t joking - it was a mess. Dirty clothes everywhere, piles of dishes. He sat down on his recliner, propped up the foot rest, turned on the tv, and started drinking a can of beer and rolling up a joint. “I’ll enjoy these while you get to work,” he said. I could barely take my eyes off his massive bare feet propped up on the recliner. Fuck, they were big, and wide and beefy. I swore I could catch whiffs of them too. Rob noticed me staring. “Hey — eyes on the chores, perv. These paws aren’t for you.”

I worked on the dishes and laundry and sweeping for the next few hours, my dick hard the whole time looking at his feet. Rob was pretty buzzed and high by the time I was done. He took a look around. “Not bad — you cleaned up pretty well. I think this’ll be a good arrangement.” He sat back down on the recliner. “If you keep up the good work, I might even let you rub my tired feet one day.” I think he saw my dick twitch in my pants, and he chuckled. “Yeah I bet you’d like that.”

But that’s all I got; he said the night was over. I went to my place, grabbing his socks from his boots on the way, my reward for my hard work. I jerked off furiously that night, sniffing his socks and thinking about those amazing meaty soles I’d just spent the last few hours staring at.

Every night that week I came over bringing beer and weed and ready for my chores - cleaning, sweeping, vacuuming, scrubbing in the bathroom, and my favorite, laundry - while Rob sat back and drank and smoked. On Friday, the end of my first week, Rob was real tired. It was an especially long day at work and he needed to unwind. He sat down on the recliner to watch tv and play video games and drink the beer I brought and smoke up. He was happy to have the weekend off.

I finished up my chores pretty quickly. “All done Rob, hope I did a good job.” Rob was pretty relaxed by this point, a few beers and two joints in. “Good job. You make a good little house fag.” He yawned. “You know, you been doing such a good job, I think it might be time to reward you with something special. I’m feeling pretty generous tonight … and my feet are really sore.”

I gulped. “You want me to help with that?”

He laughed. “Yeah I knew that would excite you. You really are a little foot freak aren’t you. Yeah I know you can barely keep your eyes off them … yeah, alright, get down there and massage them.”

Yes! I immediately knelt down in front of his propped up feet while he kept watching tv. My hands were trembling as I grabbed onto his huge bare feet and started rubbing them. Rob sighed - “yeah that does feel good. Keep that up.” I rubbed his meaty feet, damn they were hot! I felt myself leaning closer and closer to them. I could smell them, faintly, and couldn’t help myself from trying to get a deeper whiff. “Nuh uh uh, I didn’t tell you you could sniff, buddy,” Rob said, snapping me out of it. “I’m not feeling that generous. Just massage them. You can sniff your hands afterwards.” I massaged them for half an hour, my dick rock hard, before he let me go for the night. It was torturous being so close to his feet and not being able to sniff them! But my hands stank of them for a long while afterwards!

From then on he had me massage them every night after my chores. The next Friday, about half an hour into the massage, Rob fell asleep. The mix of booze and pot and the massage and exhaustion took him out. I stared at the giant feet in my hands as I heard him lightly snore. Fuck, I thought. He’s out cold. This might be my chance to finally ….

I was nervous about it but couldn’t help myself. I leaned forward until my nose was about an inch from Rob’s sleeping feet. I sniffed from that distance, afraid to get closer. Damn … damn! I thought his socks stank. But his bare feet were … fuck I felt myself leaking as I sniffed as hard as I could without touching his feet and waking him up.

But I guess I was sniffing too loud. Rob’s voice started, “are you trying to sniff my feet? I thought I told you no sniffing … this is a massage not a scratch and sniff.”

“Sorry Rob, I just …”

He chuckled. “You really need to sniff them, don’t you? Ha ha … well, I guess you have been behaving well the past few weeks. Is that what you really want? To sniff up my smelly bare feet?”

My mouth was dry and my dick was leaking as I panted out “yeah, yeah I do Rob, I really want to sniff your feet, if you’ll let me …”

“Oh boy you’re like a little pup aren’t ya, desperate to sniff your masters smelly feet … alright buddy, tonight’s your lucky night. Go ahead and sniff them.”

“Thank you sir,” I said as I dove my nose right under his toes and started hungrily sniffing. They were moist and sweaty, muscular but soft and meaty, easy to bury my nose in … and they stank. Rob’s feet really stank. They had that delicious manly, sweaty, heady stink to them. I sniffed them for about an hour; Rob even fell asleep again halfway, as I had my way with his feet, huffing on them. I barely had to touch myself to finally cum all over the inside of my pants.

I guess in my excitement and hungry desperate sniffing while I climaxed, I woke Rob up again. I heard him say “oh boy, you’ve gone and made a mess of yourself there, haven’t ya buddy. Oh man … what are we gonna do with ya … you really need my smelly feet bad, don’t ya.”

I panted out a “yes,” still coming down from my orgasm, my nose still nestled between his rank toes, gently breathing in his foot stink. “I really need your smelly feet sir …”

Rob said “oh boy … yeah, I can tell … well pup I’m gonna go to bed now. But I’ll tell ya what … you can sniff my feet while I sleep. I’ll let you sniff them every night while I sleep in fact … but in addition to the booze and weed and house chores, you’ve also gotta do my other chores - buy my groceries, clean the car, dry cleaning …and you’re paying for any dates I have in the future too …”

I willingly accepted. And I spent the rest of the night sniffing his huge smelly feet while he slept. Must have jerked off another four or five times! It’s been like that every night since …

[broklib]

Ryan Callum. For the past 8 months he has made my life a living hell. Ever since the young brat got hired to my department he has been pushing my buttons. Hes a cocky bastard who thinks he knows it all already. Despite me working here for nearly a decade he talks down to me like I’m beneath him on the totem pole. If that weren’t enough he is also wildly homophobic and after I decorated my cubicle for Pride month he realized I was gay and had been mocking me ever since.

When he’d first seen the rainbow flag hanging on the backwall of my cube he made a face of disgust and asked me what ‘that faggot shit’ was doing in the office. I’d told him off for his language and informed him that I was gay and that I would be reporting him to HR. He laughed and told me that it was clear I was a ‘queer’ since going to HR instead of talking things out like a real man was exactly the type of ‘pussy shit’ a fag would do.

I reported him that afternoon and I heard that he’d been reprimanded. I had been hoping for him being fired entirely, but I suppose that would be asking too much for a first offense. When I came in the next day my pride flag had been taken down. I knew immediately who had done it, but when I confronted Ryan he denied it with a smirk on his face. No matter how much I pleaded with HR they said I had no proof and so I had just had to let it go.

The months that followed contained more similarly plausibly deniable harassment. I began to receive ‘gifts’ wrapped in rainbow wrapping paper starting on my birthday. I opened it up in front of my cubicle mates thinking it had been a gift from a friendly coworker only for a large dildo to fall out of the package. I was mortified. I had tried to hide it quickly but there was no disguising a tool of that size. My cubicle mates laughed and soon word spread round the office. I seethed with quiet embarrassed rage the whole day until Ryan came around to poke fun just as everyone else had.

“I heard about your prank present, buddy. Funny shit. Well, at least it's something somebody like you will be able to get plenty of use out of!” He laughed before walking away

I knew it was him who’d done it, but reporting it to HR yielded no results again. Plausible deniability and it's not like he was the only one to mock me that day. I confided my suspicions with a few other gay coworkers and they all felt the same as I did and they’d all made complaints. Ryan was making this place toxic, but without the recourse of HR we couldn’t do much about it for now.

Then a few weeks later another gift. This time I was smart enough to wait to get home to open it to find a butt plug. Then a few weeks later it was a cock cage with a rainbow design on it. Then a pair of panties with the word ‘fag’ printed on them. Every time I got a new gift Ryan would pop by the next day to ask about it and if I ‘enjoyed it’ as much as I had the first one. 

I reported him again and again until HR told me bluntly that unless I had proof they would no longer be listening to my complaints. So I’ve been snooping trying to get proof he was doing this to no avail. Asking straight co-workers about it at best got a few chuckles and jokes about the contents of the gifts. And my gay coworkers at this point seemed to have given up on improving the situation. I was also on the verge of giving up on my dream of getting him fired when a gift fell into my lap or more accurately onto my timeline.

I was scrolling through my X feed at night with my dick in hand as I perused my shamefully curated timeline. It was full of rough sex, straight cashmasters abusing fags, and homophobic abuse. I hadn’t chosen this kink, but unlike some others I knew it was just a kink and was able to separate it from my real life.

Anyway, while browsing one day I came across a hot video of a man pissing on a pride flag. It made me so hot to see him disrespect fags like that and I furiously rubbed my shaft as I listened to the sound of his heavy stream covering the flag that represented the fight for my rights. But as soon as the man started talking I stopped.

“Fuck fag pride. You losers are nothing but a shameful disgrace.”

I recognized that voice.

It was Ryan.

I clicked through the reblog to find the original tweet to see the account, @FagDestroyerRC, and read it.

‘Stole this loser flag from a queer at my job. How much do you think I could $ell it back to him for now that it's soaked in my Superior Straight piss?’

I sat there mouth agape and my cock throbbed reflexively. This had to be Ryan’s account. That had to be my flag he was pissing on.

This was amazing. I now had some proof, or something like it at least. I was sure that somewhere in this account was enough information that I could get him fired for the harassment he’d directed at me. And even if he didn’t I’m sure the company would fire him for having a porn account anyway so if I could find pics or vids with his face in it that would get him fired anyway.

I giddily scrolled back through his feed taking in what appeared to be years of his homophobic and abusive content. 

‘You fags are pathetic and the only part of you that matters are your wallets’

‘fags are wastes of a pregnancy. Apologize to your parents for wasting their time’

‘queers aren’t men. You losers should be legally classified as fail-males to distinguish your place beneath real men.’

I found myself idly stroking my cock and I had to repeatedly remind myself to stop getting off to this real life homophobic jerk. I was better than that. I knew how to keep my kink and reality separate. But still, memories of Ryan mocking me in the office blurred and mixed in with idle fantasies of him using the dildo he’d bought to rape my ass while he laughed. Fuck, that would be so hot. I groaned in frustration as my fantasies grew in depravity as I scrolled.

Every picture of him, even though it was only from the neck down, was so frustratingly hot. I never realized how built he was. God I wished he would smack me around. Just walk up to my desk and slap me for being a stupid, disrespectful, little fag fail male. 

I shook my head.

Focus.

Eventually I realized it had been hours and I hadn’t found anything. Looking at the clock I realized it was well past midnight and I had work the next day. I decided to call it a night but swore to find the evidence I needed to get rid of Ryan.

The next day at work I walked in with my head held high and a smile on my face knowing that soon I would have Ryan out on his ass. People commented on my chipper mood throughout the day, including Ryan. 

I happened to enter the break room as he was leaving and he noticed my attempt at a knowing smirk.

“What’s got you in a good mood? You finally decided to put that butt plug to use, faggy?” He chuckled at my shocked expression.

He had not only confirmed my suspicions about the packages but he’d blatantly called me a fag in the office. Of course no one was around to hear it so it was my word against his. But I was still irate, fuming, disgusted, and… hard?

After he left me there steaming I realized my dick had shot to full hardness in seconds and was throbbing against my zipper painfully.

What was happening?

I kept my private kinks and my real life separate. No way was I getting hard because Ryan Callum of all people had been so disrespectful toward me.

But the throbbing in my pants and the rapidly growing pool of precum in my underwear didn’t lie. I shamedly shuffled to the bathroom and sat on the toilet for a few minutes waiting for my erection to go back down.

This was so embarrassing. I couldn’t believe it was happening. It had to be because I hadn’t gotten off last night. This was just residual unresolved horniness.

Still, no matter what, I told myself, this was a sign that I needed to get Ryan out of here ASAP!

That night at home I redoubled my efforts to find evidence to oust Ryan. I resumed my scroll and found myself in the same headspace I was last night. Stroking absentmindedly as I read the hate filled messages. Somehow knowing for a fact that Ryan was just as homophobic in real life and that this account wasn’t an act made it contradictingly hotter despite my desire to keep my kink grounded in pure fetish only territory. Everytime I saw a picture of his frustratingly huge cock accompanied by some bigoted remark I gripped my dick tight and groaned.

It was while looking at one of those tweets that I felt it. The building sensation that I knew I couldn’t fight against. With my mind full of fantasies about Ryan and my eyes fixated on his big alpha cock I came. I blasted rope after watery rope of my fag cum all over my hands and stomach. I was helpless to stop the waves of ecstasy that wracked my body as I orgasmed. Once the feeling had passed I closed the browser in shame and tried to deny what had just happened.

‘It was just a fluke.’ I told myself 

‘It didn’t mean anything.’ I said

‘I wouldn’t do it again.’ I promised.

But I did do it again. The next night it happened again as I was again looking for evidence. An image of Ryan’s pits sparked something in me and I went overboard and came while licking the image of his armpits on my screen. 

And it happened again the next night and the night after that. Every night I would look for evidence and without fail I would come to images and fantasies of Ryan. And Every day I would walk into work and try to avoid his gaze as if he would be able to look into my eyes and know what I had done. And every time he would mock me or smirk at me or even just be around me with his powerful alpha presence I would get hard and have to excuse myself to the restroom until my erection calmed itself.

I told myself that it was all for the purpose of getting him fired and that's why this cycle repeated for two weeks until finally one Friday I’d finally reached the end of his feed with no concrete evidence that this profile belonged to him. 

I was disappointed. I tried to convince myself that the reason for my disappointment was because I didn’t have the evidence I needed, but a voice in the back of my head whispered that I was sad I had no more new material to goon over.

I was about to close out the browser when I thought of something. I clicked onto the link in his profile and found what I was looking for. His OnlyFans page. There had to be more content there than on his X account! And maybe some of it had his face! Sure the $50 per month subscription fee was egregious, but by subscribing for 3 months I got a deal by basically only spending $45 per month. It was a small price to pay to be able to get more of Ryan’s content. For evidence gathering of course.

I clicked the first video and saw what I’d been hoping for. There in full view was Ryan’s face as he stood naked and flexed for the camera. I started screen recording to prepare a video to send to HR as Ryan began to taunt the viewer. Taunting me.

“Look at this body, you pathetic fail male and then look down at your weak little fag body and remember that I will always be better than you. You pansies don’t even have a tenth of the testosterone in your body that a real man does. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you strain yourself in the gym you’ll never be a man.”

I stroked myself with my mouth wide open as he wiggled his cock in front of the camera. I pictured myself on my knees getting my face slapped over and over again by that beautiful dong. I envisioned him taunting me as I tried to get a taste of his tip each time the shaft slid across my face, but he would laugh and remind me that dicks are for chicks.

Before I knew it the video was over. I moved onto the next and then the next. The further I scrolled the deeper my mind went into my perverted fantasies and my thought process grew foggy. I barely registered how deep I was going until I saw an image that wasn’t like the others. It was a pic of his cock encased in a clone-a-willy mould. The caption attached read “I bet you losers would spend $1,000 to get a chance to buy a replica of my cock, wouldn’t you? Too bad for you. This dildo is going to a homo coworker of mine who clearly needs to be reminded that DEI hire fail males like him are nothing more than a joke. After he gets his hands on this I’m sure he’ll be a lot less of a tight-ass in more ways than one”

Seeing it spelled out I had a sudden realization and rushed to my closet and dug through my things until I found it. The dildo that had embarrassed me in front of my colleagues all those months ago. I had kept it as potential evidence and now I was so grateful for my forward thinking. In my hand I held a replica of Ryan’s thick cock and my mouth salivated and my hole twitched at just the thought. I admired its beauty and power. I brought it to my lips and kissed the tip wishing I could do this to the real thing. I opened my mouth and let it slowly slide into my mouth, being sure to bask in the feeling of how it widened my mouth with its girth until it slid to the back of my throat. I gagged on its length but endured until I reached the silicone balls at the end. I slid it out and in again and again, picturing Ryan fucking my fag throat until it was covered with a mix of his precum and my throat slime.

When I finally pulled it out it was slick and thoroughly lubed. I knew what I needed to do next. I went back to my computer and pulled up the video of Ryan pissing on my flag again and put it on repeat. I listened to his piss and demeaning words looping and watched him denigrate the flag he’d stolen from me and as I did so I pressed the head of that cock to my hole. I was twitching in anticipation to be penetrated by the replica of Ryan’s cock. I pushed in and groaned as I felt his head pierce into me. As I slid down each glorious inch his words penetrated my skull over and over.

“Fuck fag pride”

“Fuck fag pride”

“Fuck fag pride”

I rode the dildo with feverish intensity just imaging I was getting fucked by the Alpha Male it was molded after. I was desperate to cum but something about it felt wrong. I was getting so much pleasure from this perverted fantasy of a man I had been trying for months to get fired. It was wrong. I needed to correct my transgressions somehow.

I clicked on his account and DM’ed him.

‘I’m so sorry for being such a fucking faggot, sir. I didn’t understand just how real your superiority was.’

I watched and waited for a bit with the dildo still firmly up my ass and to my surprise a response came in.

‘Is that any way to approach me you little bitch?’

I realize my mistake immediately. I open my cashapp and immediately send $20 to his account.

‘So sorry, sir! I’ve sent, sir.’

‘That's better. So many fail males like you in my DMs who think they can waste a real man’s time for free. So fucking disrespectful.’

‘I apologize again. My stupid fag brain was just overwhelmed by your superiority. I’ve been gooning to your page for weeks and my brain hasn’t been right since I set my eyes on your cock, sir.’

‘Pathetic. Do you realize how much of a loser you are to catch a glimpse of my fat, sweaty, musky cock and lose all your pride like this? Did you ever have it in the first place?’

I read the message and groan as my hole reflexively twitches around the dildo inside of me.

‘I thought I did sir. I argued with real men like my coworkers about my dignity, but I think I was wrong. I think pride is only for real men.’

‘You think? Sounds like you need to be reminded of your inferiority so you can be sure.’

I was about to reply when suddenly an image came through and a picture of his cock appeared on my screen again. I started panting and bouncing on the dildo as I was confronted with the object of my worship again.

‘I don’t tolerate weak fence-sitting bullshit. You need to send again and tell me how you really feel, faggot.’

I sent another $50 and bounced on his cock more furiously.

‘Yes sir! Sent! I’m so sorry. You’re right. I know that I was wrong. I’m a pathetic fail male queer. I’m so sorry for disrespecting you again.’

‘That’s right you are. You may be slow but you’re getting there. The only use you have is to be a wallet or a punchline for a real man.’

‘Thank you sir. I’m so glad I can be of use to you in some way.’

‘Haha, that’s right. Your life is about me, isn’t it cum-sucker? Too bad for you that I have better things to do on a Friday night than talk to some fag. I’ve got a bitch I’ve been seeing coming over later tonight and I’m gonna bust her cunt wide open. Bet you wish you were her, huh?’

I whined pathetically, now hammering my hole with Ryan’s cock. I wanted it so bad. I wish I could feel the strength of his thighs pistoning into my pathetic fag hole and look up at him as he spits in my face.

‘Yes sir. I’m so jealous. I know you deserve to fuck whatever hole you want, though. I hope she serves you well.’

‘Good faggot. Maybe one day I’ll let you buy one of my used condoms to suck dry, lmaoooo. I’m done with you for now though, but as a reward I’ll let you send me $50 when you cum tonight while thinking of me.’

My eyes crossed as I read the message. Just thinking about tasting Ryan’s jizz had my fag brain going into overdrive. I wanted it. I NEEDED to know what a real man’s cum tasted like. I wanted to kiss every inch of his body, I wanted him to beat me senseless, I wanted him to expose me, I wanted him to destroy my wallet and my hole, I wanted him to-

“RYANNNNnnn!” I shouted out as my hole spasmed around his cock and my tiny dicklet spurted out the most powerful orgasm of my life. My vision blurred and my hands and thighs tingled with electricity as I rode Ryan’s cock until the last of my cum was drained out of me.

As I recovered my brain functions I pulled out my phone and with jizz covered fingers I opened the app again and sent Ryan $50.

For the rest of the weekend I did nothing but goon to Ryan and each time I came I sent him another $50. By the time I went to bed on Sunday night I had spent over $300 in tributes to him and he hadn’t even bothered to reach out. It felt shameful, but it felt correct. I was just a faceless fag in a sea of queers who were willing to worship him. But the thought of that made me sick with envy of those other fail males. I needed to stand out and show him that I could do more for him than they could. And with that thought in mind I knew what I had to do.

On Monday I arrived early to the office building and parked near the back. Underneath my clothes I wore the rainbow cock cage on my straining dicklet and I had the buttplug firmly wedged inside of me. I waited in my car until I saw Ryan' s truck arrive. I immediately got out, checking to ensure no one was around, and I approached him. Once he spotted me he got that insufferably handsome smirk on his face.

“What do you want so early in the morning, homo? If it isn’t obvious I’d prefer to not have to interact with a pride princess like you if I’m not getting paid for it so if you could wait until we’re on the clock I’d appreciate it.”

“Yes sir, I understand you don’t want to talk to fail males like me without getting paid.” I said before kneeling in front of him. I pulled out an envelope with $500 from my pocket and held it palms up toward him as I bowed my head, “Thank you for gracing me with your presence this Friday. I wanted to apologize in person for ruining your workplace with my fag pride.”

Ryan made a brief sound of surprise before he started chuckling and finally outright laughing.

“Oh this is too good. After all that bitching and snitching to HR you’re here kneeling before me like the pathetic cocksucker you are. Sure, I’ll take this down payment for your apology from you, but this is just the beginning. Look up at me.”

I looked up at his command only to be greeted immediately by a huge glob of spit raining down on my face.

“I’m gonna make one thing clear to you and you have this one chance to turn away and quit this job and find another because if you stay,” His face contorted into a vicious grin, “I am going to DESTROY you both mind and body. So what do you say?”

I knelt there trembling in awe of his presence. He was offering me a choice but with the sight of his bulge in his pants before me, the intimidating alpha aura he was emitting, and the taste of his spit on my lips we both knew there was only one choice.

“Please destroy me, sir!”

[humiliatemeplesse]

That's right you stupid little faggot start sniffing. Kiss 'em. Thank me for taking you in. You really think I'm letting you stay here because of brotherly love? Hahaha. The only reason I'm letting you stay here is because I need a fag bitch to do my bidding. And this is the beginning of it. So you stay there on your knees and you sniff kiss worship and massage my sweaty stinking dirty socked feet and thank me for the honor of being allowed to stay here. Do exactly as you're told or I'll kick your faggot ass back out on the street. You're so fucking pathetic you can't even take care of yourself and you have to come here and beg me for shelter. Well you're going to pay for it one way or another and this is just the start. You should be fucking disgraced and disgusted with yourself. And humiliated at what I'm making you do you little worthless homo. Wait until you lick my toilet bowl clean later. Now sniff my stinking soft feet you fucking loser.

[hotmenandfeet]

[permanently-warped]

“Hey, what are you doing out of your cage? I said bed for the night. Ohh, you just wanted to see me. How sweet.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you just wanted to lick my feet again. Is that what you want? It’s okay.”

He lures me closer with a wave of his foot. He looks at me commandingly, I understand his body language. I take his big toe in first, then stretch my mouth over the rest of his toes. He puts a hand on the back of my head and pushes me deeper. It starts to hurt, I can feel myself about to gag.

“This what you wanted?”

He pushes harder. Nearly a third of his massive foot is shoved into my skull. Tears well in my eyes. I try to retract but his hand applies more force. I moan in agony, looking up and seeing his stern expression. I gag heavily, his face stays stoic. A sharp moan comes out involuntarily. I feel my face turning red, my under eyes are wet.

He removes his hand from the back of my head. I dry heave and throw myself to the floor, bowing towards him. A heavy foot slams my head to the floor. He pushes harder until I feel like my brain is going to explode.

“When I say ‘go to bed’ what are you going to do next time?”

[humiliatemeplesse]

This is the third time this month I've come home and you haven't finished all of your duties. You fucking stupid useless faggot. Now I'm going to have to teach you a lesson and stomp your face and break your nose with my stinking sweaty dirty workout socks. Don't worry, no one sees you anyway so who's going to care if your face looks fucked up. It's about the pain anyway. Now take a good sniff pig as it's coming down on your ugly faggot face.

[22back]

(Josh The Caddie Part 2)

For an entire week, Josh and his feet became all you could think about, while you’re at work, while you’re at home, while you’re eating. Your entire week became you waiting for the next time you could see him.

He didn’t tell you when to come back again but you went after just 3 days, hoping you’d see him, and you were in luck, cuz at the front office they told you he was in.

You found him sitting by the basketball court, on the phone with his headphones, like before he had one show off.

You didn’t wanna interrupt and you could tell he saw you, so you waved and waited for him, he was on the phone for over 30 minutes with you standing awkwardly and stealing glances at his bare foot.

When he was done he got up and you went over to him, before you could say anything he said “I already played a round today so I’m not gonna play again”

“Oh….okay, I guess I’ll just play aro-“

He cut you off, and you know when he’s speaking to shut up and nod “did you drive here” he asked and when you said yeah he just started walking and you followed, when you got to the parking lot, you led him to your car, and you opened the passenger door for him, you knew your role without him having to even explain it.

“Okay first you’re gonna drive to McDonald’s, I’m starving” he instructed.

As you were driving he stripped his shoe and sock off and put his foot up, you couldn’t help stealing glances “now don’t get too distracted fag” he said while smirking at you.

You got him his food and watched him eat while you had nothing, something about just getting to be near him made you horny, serving him made you extremely horny.

After he was done he gave you an address to a soccer field, saying he had a game.

When you got there and he got out of the car, he turned back to you and said “now don’t fucking go anywhere and don’t leave your car, got it?”

“Yes sir” you responded while nodding.

You had a good view from the car, and watched him play for a full hour and a half, just sitting in your car with a boner.

After they were done and the players started leaving, you noticed Josh was sitting on the ground with a few other players around. You saw him raise his hand and wave you over while sitting on the ground.

You jumped out of your car and rushed over, excited to be near him again.

As you got there no one addressed you, and you didn’t address anyone either. All you saw was Josh take his shoes, and you just stood there until you headed him say “what do you think you’re here for? My feet are killing me, start rubbing” you heard all his friends laugh and snicker while they looked at you waiting to see what you were gonna do, and you got down on the ground, put your hands on his big sweaty socks and started rubbing.

He looked at his friends “see I fucking told you he’d do it” before he busted out laughing.

You did what you could do, which was to keep rubbing his feet, you rubbed his feet for 15 minutes while they all joked and spoke with each other like you weren’t even there.

And after 15 minutes Josh turned to one of his friends “Jack you said your feet could use a massage too, didn’t you?” You looked up at Josh and then Jack who both had an evil smile on their face, and you knew what you were gonna be from now on, and you were grateful for it.

[mastersfootrest]

Subjugated by Master Christian

Life was pretty great. I had recently moved out of my small suburban neighborhood out of my parents house after years of saving up and landing a job in the area. It took a lot of time, effort, and willpower to save up the money and resist buying other things. But here I was: sitting on the bed in my new apartment, looking out the window overseeing the busy street below. I had always felt more like a city boy in my eyes, the yawning lull of the suburbs often left me to my own devices bored. I was definitely excited to begin life here.

As I continued unpacking the furniture, adjusting the couch this way, that way, debating where to place the bookshelf, whether to have this painting to the left or right of that painting, the day began to unwind, and with it the settling silence in stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of several hours ago. With this silence a new feeling began settling within me too, loneliness. I had grown up in the town I had just moved from. Everyone I knew lived there. My two brothers and sister still lived there. Though I was only a few hours away, it felt like a world away in this moment. I paused my unpacking, growing uncomfortably lethargic, and sat on the couch, throwing myself against the cushions and staring at the ceiling. Exhaustion crept up in but a moment, and I was out.

-

Yawning, I stretched and swung my legs up in the air using the moment on the way down to surge off of the couch in a single bound. I felt more energetic following the night's rest, but I also came to two realizations. One, I was fucking starving. And two, I needed a roommate, and bad. I had seen a bagel place just down the street and after changing my clothes into the first shirt and shorts I grabbed that went together reasonably well, I headed out the door while navigating google trying to figure out how the hell to find roommates.

Obviously, it wasn't like I had been using google very long before I arrived at the bagel spot, but from what my short search enlightened me to was that this would likely be a longer process than I was expecting and with a degree of trial and error as I reached out to random strangers. I sighed, standing in line while trying to come up with a post when the person in front of me turned around after ordering and nearly bumped into me.

"Sorry bro." He apologized before looking me up and down, laughing "Shit man, nice shirt, don't see something like that everyday." I glanced down at my shirt, actual realizing for the first time which tank I had put on. It was a gag shirt my oldest younger brother had got me, it was art work for Lady Gaga's 'Fame Monster' album but in the style of a black sabbath or metalica-esque band. He liked heavy metal while I preferred pop or alternative music, so while it wasn't really in the vain of my interests, I wasn't going to turn down a Lady Gaga shirt. And, I mean, the guy was right, it wasn't something you necessarily see all the time, especially since this specific shirt had been custom made.

"Hey, thanks, yeah my brother got it as a present." I candidly replied.

"He must be the Lady Gaga fan, huh?" He remarked, with a cheeky wit.

Understanding that he must be referring to my rather flamboyant voice and demeanor, I read between the lines of his joke and playfully reassured him, "Of course, was it that obvious that I love death metal and screamo?"

Chuckling at my comment he continued walking from the counter before taking a seat awaiting his order. Now my turn, and attempting to not hold the line up further, I quickly ordered an everything bagel toasted with cream cheese and a black coffee.

After being handed my coffee, I took to waiting by the counter where orders were being placed once completed until a seat opened up conveniently beside the man from earlier. I walked over to the open seated while continuing to ponder over my previous concerns regarding finding a roommate when the man once again interrupted my thoughts.

"Okay, now I definitely wouldn't have taken you for a black coffee kinda guy, this may not be a starbucks with all that frou frou shit, but they have some other pretty good options."

My turn to laugh, I placed my phone down taking another sip and reassured him, honestly this time, "Thanks man, but I actually, genuinely, do like my coffee black. Gotta have something to give me enough energy to keep going. Black's the only thing that'll do it, and now I'm just so used to it that I can't have anything else."

"Ha, whatever you say man," his eyes quickly glancing down at my phone. "You looking for a roommate?"

My heart suddenly skipped a beat, holy shit, was this stranger really about to be someone I met by complete coincidence that would change my life forever? Would we be best friends? My head was reeling, and unintentionally I replied back with insane sass, "No, I just like pretending that I am." IMMEDIATELY regretting the unnecessary sass, I apologized, "shit I'm so sorry, I just do that with my brothers--"

However, before I could fully apologize the man exploded into raucous laughter. "You're a funny dude you know that."

Blushing I answered, "Yes, though, I am looking for a roommate. I just moved in the area, yesterday actually. Was able to get a two-bed two-bath at the Clarion just down the street, but well... I've never lived alone."

"Shit, dude" he replied before rising to get his order, when he returned a few seconds later he continued, "you must be fucking loaded or something to be living there, right? You a trust fund baby or something?"

Now my turn to laugh, I refuted his assertion, "Nahhh, I'm my parents are better off than a lot of people, I guess. But I got this place and everything in it with my own money." This time, I rose from my seat after finishing my thought to get my bagel.

After sitting back down, he confided, "Well shit man, I mean I know you just met me, but I've been looking for a place. My girl and I just broke up. We've been trying to be diplomatic about the place we were living, but we both can't really stand being around one another right now. She left for her parents to get away for a bit, but asked that I try to find a place while she's gone."

"Damn, I totally get it." I comforted him. He stroked his jaw, while I took a few minutes to really contemplate things. I mean, what the hell, we can see where this goes. "Okay, I'll need some things from you, records of where you lived, and if it's okay, I'd honestly like to speak with your ex just to get an idea of what you're like. But I will say, I can be pretty good about telling when someone's just bullshitting me because they don't like the person in question. So I promise if she tries to do that, I won't take her seriously."

With a huge grin on his face, he rose from his seat, "Perfect, dude! Does now work for me to come see the place?" After assenting, we grabbed our food and coffee and left the store to head up to the apartment.

-

On the way up, he informed me that his name was Christian, or Chris for short, and I told him that mine was Alex. He also provided me with his ex's number. After reaching the 7th floor, we walked down to the end of the long hallway as I removed the keys from my pocket and began unlocking the door.

"Here we are!" I announced, entering the apartment.

After taking in the view, all I heard was "Ho-ly shit, dude. Are you sure you're not loaded?"

"I most certainly am not, but I guess my job is pretty well paying." I chuckled.

"What do you do?" He asked, now likely curious given I was affording this on my own.

"Cyber security," I answered to which he rolled his eyes dramatically. Scoffing, I questioned him, "what was that look for?"

"Come on man, it's like every rich gay dude works in cyber security."

My heart stopped when he said that, I had never said I was gay. I mean I am, but I was shocked he was confident enough in knowing my sexuality to say that... or ignorant enough.

Seeming to read my feelings, he nonchalantly brushed it off, "Sorry dude, I would be able to tell from a mile away. I was just callin' it like I see it, nothing wrong with that."

Well at least he seemingly wasn't a homophobe. "So what do you do then? Lift weights?" I tried to offer as a snarky come back.

Chuckling he asked, "Is that what straight dudes get stereotyped as? I guess it ain't so bad. You're pretty close but just shy of the money shot. Physical trainer." With that he lifted his arms flexing them and his back in a pose meant to show off his physique.

I rolled my eyes this time, but also turned away to hopefully avoid him seeing my face clearly flush with embarrassment. Fuck he was really hot.

"Anyway, you can try hitting up my ex, she should be up now. Mind if I take a look around a little on my own."

"Of course," I replied while beginning to dial up his ex.

True to his expectation she answered the phone, and in a really bitchy manner she demanded to know who was calling her. God, I can see why he broke up with her, I thought. However, despite her initial bitchiness, after understanding the situation her tone drastically changed.

"Oh, yeah," she replied, "you have nothing to worry about. He's not a jackass, just a dumbass. He'll listen to house rules, for the most part. He won't miss rent, I can tell you that. And since you're a guy, I mean you probably won't mind it as much, but he has a tendency to leave his clothes everywhere, that was one thing I couldn't stand. He was literally clean with everything else. He would rinse dishes and put them in the dishwasher, make sure he didn't track dirt in, wouldn't leave trash around the place. But when it came to his clothes, that pig just wouldn't get it through his head." She sighed, before adding one final thing, "oh, and since he's single, I'm sure he's gonna try to be bagging chicks left and right every chance he gets, so have fun with that. But really, he's not a bad guy, we just weren't good for each other. I'm my own person, I have my own shit I want to do. I wasn't there to be his little maid and fucktoy you know. Maybe someone else is fine with that, just not me." Oh honey, you sure know how to talk this bitches ear off. But I got the gist of it. I thanked her and hung up.

Just as I got off the phone, Chris turned the corner with a smirk on his face and inquired, "so what's the verdict?"

"Weeeeeeell, your ex said you're a pig, but otherwise you're nice."

Howling in laughter at that, he quipped, "and she's a bitch, but otherwise nice!" After calming down from his laughter, he admitted, "yeah I wasn't always the best, but I'll try to be better man." He patted me on the shoulder, and I swear I nearly melted into a puddle as he looked into my eyes. "I'll definitely try."

Trying to hold myself together, I gulped hard and squeaked out, "And that's all I could ask of you... roomie."

Patting me on the back, practically knocking all the breath out of my chest, he thanked me profusely before we really began to hammer out the details.

-

-

-

The following weekend after we first met, Christian had moved in. The leasing office at his prior apartment had assured both me and the leasing office here that they has never received any complaints about him and that he had never missed any payments. The week leading up to things was super hectic for me, given this was a new job, although our work can be completed remotely, they wanted me to come in for the first three weeks for training and to get accustomed to everything. Even after he had arrived, although we had hung out, there wasn't nearly as much interaction between us as we would both come home exhausted from our jobs. Chris worked the first half of the week, but then seemed to have off Thursday and Friday, unlike me. However to make up for it, he seemed to work most Saturdays and Sundays with weekend clients. This meant that even on the following weekend after he moved in, we didn't see much of each other.

That Sunday evening, finally beginning to feel a little in my element at work, despite how much was asked of me, and in my new home, I went grocery shopping and planned to make a dinner tonight. Figured I could treat Christian given I kinda neglected him the rest of the week after he had just moved in, and if he didn't want or like my lasagna, well that just left more for me!

After getting home and getting to work, I found myself bored and alone as I sat waiting for the lasagna to bake.

I noticed that true to his Ex’s word, he had been leaving clothes scattered about. With some time to kill, I rolled my eyes and got to picking up after him. For the most part it was a lot of shirts and pants, and many, many socks. Going around actually attending to the mess brought to my attention how it actually affected my environment. Namely, despite not noticing before, it was hard not to be aware of the… scent… his socks had as I picked them up. It was earthy and wet, something that really made my nose scrunch. But I simply sighed, held my breath as best I could, and continued picking up the clothes until everything in the shared living quarters was cleared.

However, when I first stepped into his room, I realized the extent of how messy he could be. Clothes practically covered the entire floor. After putting the dirty clothes from outside his room in his hamper, I was preparing to clean up his room as well. I did have quite a bit of time, after all. As I reached down to grab something, I quickly realized he kept some other pieces of clothing littered here.

Turning my eyes down to my hands, I saw the thing I picked up was a pair of boxers. Initially, I was a little grossed out. But then thinking about who these belonged to… well, Christian was pretty fucking hot. I definitely would not have minded seeing what these boxers covered up.

In the back of my mind, I noticed a squirming little urge. A little voice back there saying that I could bring the boxers to my face, take a sniff. It felt wrong, but damn if I didn’t love dick. Slowly my hands rose to my face and just as they got into proximity to smell, I heard the front door open. My face went flush as I quickly threw the boxers into the hamper and scurried out of his room.

I was worried about what he’d say if he saw me coming out of his room, but thankfully Christian took that need right out of my hands.

“Whoa… Dude, you really tidied up the place. Nice!” He chuckled, taking in the sight. “Shit, you can do my room if you want!"

My face still burning a little, I started mumbling out a response. “Well, um, yeah thanks. I don’t, I mean, maybe I shouldn’t. It’s okay, um…” But barely paying attention to a word I said, Christian just asserted further.

“No really, it’d be awesome if you cleaned up my room. Why don't you do that.”

Nervous, but not wanting to elicit more suspicion, I readily agreed. Besides, I rationalized in my head, looking at the oven timer, I still had another 20 minutes before dinner would be ready. I let Christian know about dinner and headed back into his room as he sat on the couch, kicking his feet up, and put on a game to play.

As I crept back into his room, I tried to focus just on cleaning up the floor as best I could, but that little voice was still in the back of my mind the entire time. After cleaning up most of the clothes, as the timer for the food approached its end, I went out and looked over at him. He was still sitting on the couch fully absorbed in his game. I walked back into his room and there around what little clothes remained was a pair of boxers. I hastily picked them up and giving in to my urges, I once again brought them to my face.

I took a deep breath and felt my eyes roll to the back of my head. I was met with the most manly, musky crotch smell. I couldn’t help myself and kept inhaling. As I did, I noticed there was something else mixed in there. I breathed in as I tried to figure out what it was. It was a more pungent odor and slightly cheesy, but mixed with the smell of his dick, it wasn’t so bad. Finally pulling the underwear away from my face, I flipped it around and looked inside and noticed tucked into the inside of the crotch area was a lone sock.

I felt my stomach flip thinking about smelling his stinking sock and grimaced. Quickly, I grabbed up the last of the clothes just as the timer went off and hurried back into the kitchen.

-

The dinner went well. Chris really enjoyed the food and was super happy with the job I’d done in his room. I definitely didn’t want it to become a recurring event, but it felt nice to hear him praise me.

We spent the rest of the night gaming in the living room, him on the TV with his PS5 and me on my switch. It was really chill and helped to take my mind off of what happened in his room, though I felt pretty guilty smelling his used clothes behind his back.

-

-

-

As the following week started up, my work responsibilities became greater and greater. I was so exhausted after work that I simply went to my room and fell asleep most days. This went on for a few weeks, and due to errands and other responsibilities, even on my days off I was often pretty busy.

Finally, on my first Saturday off, I had some time to myself. After weeks of doing the bare minimum, the place had gone back to being covered in Christian’s clothes. Against my better judgment, I once again spent some time picking up after him, both outside and inside his room. Just as I finished and was sitting down on the couch, he came sauntering in.

“Whew, shit am I glad to be off early. Have I ever told you how crazy this client is?!” He asked rhetorically. “I am exhausted, sometimes feels like they’re working ME out?” He laughed, taking a seat beside me.

I quietly just sat next to him listening.

“Fuck, you did a nice job here. We really should have you doing that more often, right?” He laughed, though I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“Now, since you’ve had the day off and are nice and rested, why don't you make yourself useful some more. My feet need a footrest."

I felt this strange feeling in my chest as he said that and just stared at him like he was crazy. What the hell is he talking about? After a minute, he spoke up again.

“Fine, I’ll do some of the work for you,” he said as he pushed the coffee table aside. “Now I need a nice soft, but solid footrest, so get down on your hands and knees."

I wanted to tell him he was crazy when all of a sudden that feeling in my chest grew more intense and my body moved on it's own. My knees slammed to the ground in front of him and my back stretched flat.

"Wh-what the hell are you doing?" I cried out.

"Nothing," he replied casually. "Your body's moving all on it's own. It just knows what it wants more than that brain of yours does."

He was fucking with me. He had to be fucking with me. I don't know how, but he was somehow controlling me. he had to be.

My head was forced down and my eyes stared into the ground. I heard him slip off his shoes and was met with the most repulsive smell.

"Chris, what the hell did you do to your feet?!" I blurted out.

I suddenly felt him jam one foot into the side of my face. Now I knew part of the reason it reeked so bad. He'd worn his shoes sockless. The repugnant scent only grew stronger so close to my face, making me feel sick to my stomach.

"Didn't I tell you to call me, Sir, boy. You will call me Sir." He jeered, grinding the foot in further.

Like hell I'd do that. I opened my mouth again to speak, and give him a piece of my mind. "I'm sorry, Sir. Please, punish me accordingly for my mistake, Sir." What the fuck just came out of my mouth?!

"Yeah, that's much better." He sighed, contentedly, pushing his foot against my face, knocking it to the side before finally lifting both his legs and dropping them onto my back. From the sound of it, he then turned the TV on to a football game.

I groaned underneath the pressure, yet strangely did not feel an impact to my actual ability in being his foot rest. Though certainly internally feeling the pressure, my body remained steady, no matter how I tried to move it. This only further cemented that something must be going on.

My blood was boiling. Chris had been tolerable up until this point, but this was too much. I thought back to running into him, how attractive I found him, and regretted ever meeting this sick fuck. Without much control I opened my mouth to speak once more.

"Thank you for allowing me to serve you, Sir. It's what a weak little fag like me was made for." My face burned red hot. I can't say anything anymore. Not even the words I said were in my control.

Barely paying attention to me, Chris just crossed his legs, shifting his weight on my back and grunted out, "Yeah, I know."

I say all that and that's the response I get? No... I wanted to shake my head. I understood where that thought came from, clearly whatever he was doing to me was making me grovel pathetically, and I can understand how anyone would feel dejected after that. But that's not the point. That's not what I even wanted to say. I had to bite the urge to say anything further, resulting in me stewing silently beneath his feet. I'm sure he was more than pleased with this as it allowed him to focus on the game without disturbance.

I became lost in my thoughts. If I couldn't move my own body, would I ever be able to get away? Was this just my life from now on? Previously I would have thought a life with Chris would have been great, but I was a clean, pretty vanilla guy. I liked dick in my mouth, in my ass. I liked being rimmed, maybe some nipple play, but like that's it. Sex is already great, you don't have to reinvent the wheel. Now I was stuck here, on my knees, serving as his foot rest. The antithesis of everything that turned me on.

Another thought that came through my head as I sat there contemplating things was the conversation with his ex. So much for not being a jackass! Had he never done this shit with her then? She was true to her word that other than leaving his clothes around he kept things mostly clean. But with the way his cheesy feet turned my stomach, they for sure were not clean.

So did he not do this to his ex? Or did he, and he made it so she couldn't remember? If he did, why did he leave, and why now do it with a guy? Did he get off on seeing a guy be beneath him, groveling?Although sometimes faltering in the face of a hot guy, I tended to always be a very proud and determined guy, I would not stand to be treated like this.

Soon I was no longer combing through my thoughts but actively battling against parts of myself. I couldn't lash out at him. Literally, I could not. He would just turn it into praise and adoration. I had to figure out a way to beat him at his own game.

-

Silently I kneeled there. When I first got in this position it sounded like the start of the football game and though I tuned out for most of it, I could hear that the game had come to a close. It must have been around three hours that I was on my knees with his feet on my back. Though I certainly could feel the weight, I felt relief at the back of my mind that at least whatever was causing this seemed to reinforce my body and it wasn't crying out aching after all this.

I finally felt him lift his legs and feet from my back, but continued to feel stuck in place. I heard him put on his slippers and walk away, into the bathroom to take a piss. As I continued to kneel there I did my best to convince myself everything was okay, he'd probably have me get up and then I could bolt for the door. No-- if I tried to run, he'd probably stop me. I'd have to act like everything was normal, forgive him, at least until he either fell asleep, left, or was so pre-occupied in something that I could sneak out.

With my mind made up, he slowly shuffled back, sitting on the couch once again. He lifted one of his feet and nudged it against my side to move me. For the first time in hours, I felt my body move to the side.

"Move the coffee table back over." He ordered. Quietly, I moved it just as he said and watched him grab a pillow, plopping his huge bare feet onto it.

"You did a good job as my foot stool. You've earned a reward." He praised me. "I was going to have you massage my feet-- which you still are-- but first, you can give them a few kisses, even lick the soles and in between my toes. I'm nothing if not generous to a good boy." I felt my heart drop as he spoke these words. Generous?! The thought of licking his feet made me want to vomit. Just how sick was he?

My mind reeling from this thought, I made a realization: I didn't move. I looked up at him and he nodded, presumably acknowledging this realization. I felt my body nearly jump from my skin from the urge to run. It took all my willpower not to. This must be a trap, I thought. Maybe he somehow knew I was planning to escape, and he wanted to test me. Watch me make a run for it before forcing me to stop and turn back and submit to him anyway.

My own thoughts echoed in my head. I had to beat him at his own game. With that thought in my head, kneeling upright before his feet, I took a deep breath, praying it would help to keep my stomach stable, and I leaned forward.

My first thought as my face came into contact with his feet was how warm they were. It was relatively warm in the apartment, but it must have been from recently using the slippers. This thought, though unsettling from being about his feet, was not the worst thought in the world. But my next thought, as I breathed in the sweaty stench from the source, was just how awful, toxic almost, that smell was. I felt myself gag and begged my body to keep itself together. I have to do this. I told myself again and again. I don't have a choice.

Steeling my resolve, slowly I extended my tongue and felt the soft flesh embrace it. Immediately I was met with the sour taste of his sweat. C'mon, Alex, you can do this, I thought. Most things lose flavor as you lick them, just treat it like that, every time you lick his feet, it'll get better, easier... no, no, don't frame it that way... it'll be less terrible. You just have to endure it for a little longer.

Trying my best to limit my suffering, I began lapping all over his soles. As I ran along the inside of the arch, I heard him let out a deep sigh of relief as he got more comfortable, shoving his feet further into my face. His enjoyment served to reignite some of my anger; I can't believe I'm making this fucker feel good while he's making me suffer so much! I had to visualize physically restraining myself, my anger, and tying it down in an effort to control it. Somehow it worked and I don't even think I visually demonstrated any signs. Not that he was paying attention, leaning back with his eyes closed and hands behind his head. I did what I could, to focus on his feet, as gross as they were, and get rid of as much sweat as I could.

Eventually, I felt him lightly tap my cheek with the foot I wasn't currently licking and I moved back. I couldn't bring myself to look at him.

Despite this, I could tell his eyes were boring into me, almost into my soul, as he spoke, "Hope you enjoyed that as much as I did. I'm sure you did, good boys like you love that shit." I tried not to let his praise get to me, it doesn't matter how much he enjoyed it or how much he tried to make me feel good about it or myself, I wouldn't let that break my will. "Now's about time for a massage. I let you lick a little bit longer, so this'll be a shorter one. We can just go for the next 30 minutes, all right, boy? Get to it."

Wordlessly, I place my hands against the feet I had been licking but a few seconds ago and began massaging as best I could, trying to pretend as though everything was fine.

-

30 minutes passed in the blink of an eye. I guess I was so mentally worn out, I didn't realize how exhausted I was becoming. I had been working my hands mindlessly when suddenly he was the one to pull away. I sighed and averted my eyes as he rose from the couch once more, walking beside me.

"Boy," He spoke. Although I didn't want to, I felt compelled and slowly brought my head up and looked at him, into his eyes. The deep blue eyes I felt almost pulling me out of my body. "You did such a good job today, boy. I'm so proud of you." Once again, I felt resistance to his words attempt to swell in my chest, fighting a failing battle against my exhaustion. "You deserve to rest," he continued as he softly caressed my head, "rest, and let go of any of your worries. Forget whatever is troubling you and remember that you can always rely on me, you take care of me and I will take care of you." As he spoke I felt my eyes grow heavy, heavier, and suddenly, without warning, I collapsed against his legs.

-

I awoke suddenly, out of the cold dreamless sleep, and found myself in my bed. I had a splitting headache and couldn’t remember what the hell happened before I knocked out. I tried to recall and could vaguely piece together getting out of bed, making breakfast, and tidying the place up again, but after that it was all blank.

I shook my head and checked my phone. It was 5:51 AM Sunday. Shit. I don’t know when I went to sleep, but if it was at my normal time around 11 PM, then I’m missing over 12 hours in my memory… Though, gauging by how rested I felt, I was a little skeptical of whether I was awake for that long.

I rose out of bed and meandered about the living room and kitchen, quietly making food and watching something on the TV. After a few hours, I heard the door to Christians’ room open up and he shuffled his way out.

“What’s up, bro?” He yawned, stretching and scratching his furry belly that was slightly exposed. I almost got distracted by the sight of his body, but forced myself to stay focused.

“Good morning.” I greeted him. “Hey, do you know what happened yesterday? I can’t remember anything after cleaning up the place a little…"

“You did a great job, by the way, bro. I fucking love when you do that, so fuckin’ useful.” He praised me, though something in my stomach flipped hearing his praise.

After a pause where he didn’t continue, I pressed further, “Yeah, but what happened after that…"

“We just chilled. I helped you finally relax, you looked fuckin’ exhausted from your work, and before we knew it you were out like a light."

I had been pretty exhausted from work… I opened my mouth to try and dig a little deeper, but he continued on. “Yeah, you seemed real relaxed afterward. So glad I could help. Heh, you helped me to relax too though. So it was a win-win. Definitely something I wouldn’t mind doing again."

Well now I was even more curious. I helped him relax as well? Once again, I started to open my mouth when he just kept talking before I could. “I’m gonna head to the gym for work,” he explained, eating some food leftover from what I’d made this morning. “I end early again today, lots of clients away for the summer. It’s a bummer, but also kinda nice. Maybe we can hang again this afternoon. Have some more fun."

With that, he was out the door before I could get a word in edgewise. ‘Some fun’? What the hell did that mean? My thoughts immediately went to his thick cock. My lips did feel a little sore… But there’s no way. I almost laughed at the thought, though I was drooling a little bit imagining getting to suck Christian’s cock and make him feel good.

Strange, though I knew giving head made someone feel good, I had never been quite so focused on that before. Normally I just enjoyed the act of sex. I liked giving head because I enjoyed it, yet now the most tantalizing part was imagining him with his head back enjoying the experience. I shuffled around cleaning up the dishes before sitting down and trying to relax and take my mind off of things.

However, despite my best efforts, after several hours of trying to distract myself, all I could think about was what the hell happened yesterday. I thought back to what I’d done and an idea came into my head.

Slowly, I rose up and walked around the apartment. Just like when I cleaned up his clothes. I then ambled into his room and looked around. I could vaguely remember his clothes strewn about the previous day. Suddenly his voice echoed through my mind. 'We really should have you doing that more often, right?’ I shuddered as something that felt beyond my memories came into grasp. I stared at his hamper before slowly making my way to it. Mindlessly, I began rooting through it until I touched something and a part of my mind lit up. I moved my hand around until I grabbed the soft fabric and pulled it out.

In my hand lay one of his dirty socks. My eyes rested on it quizzically for a few minutes as something lie just out of reach in my mind. Then all at once I dropped the sock and made my way out of his room. My body moved on its own until I stood before couch. I shifted the coffee table out of the way and dropped to my knees. This whole time my head was pounding. But as I kneeled there something happened. It happened within a second, I was confused and lost in one moment and the next scenes flashed before my eyes as if they were events that happened to someone else as I watched.

I saw myself on my hands and knees, Christian’s big feet on my back. Then I saw his feet on swallowing my face, and could almost feel the heat and moisture from being underneath them. I could actually feel my tongue running along the bottoms and the taste of his dirty, sweaty soles spreading across it.

My heart began racing and my breathing picked up. I was losing it. What the hell. What the actual fuck. How could I forget all that? It was him… That’s right, he somehow controlled me. Of course he could probably get me to forget what happened. I slowed my breathing to try and calm me down. I needed to figure out what the hell I was going to do. Run away? Call the cops? I needed to do something. At the very least, I needed to get away.

Just as I had that thought, I heard the front door open. My heart sank and I could feel my body tense up and freeze. There would be no way to get out now, I thought as I watched him enter.

“Hey! Perfect! You’re already in position!” He chuckled to himself. “You can remember now. That’s awesome, I need to relax, bro."

As he spoke, at some point it felt like the flood gates of memories opened even wider. I could remember every second of being down on the floor beneath him. And here I was again, kneeling before him as he sat down and kicked off his shoes, revealing his bare feet.

I was freaking out and still felt like I couldn’t move. You have to calm down, I thought to myself. You can get out of this, but you have to get through this now. You have no idea what he can do, so you have to go along with whatever he would want.

He scooched the table back over as he plopped his feet down on top of it. His big, sweaty, stinky feet stood before me once again. They were disgusting after being in his shoes sockless. But I knew what I had to do. No matter what I had to act like I was playing in the palm of his hand. Looking up between those towering soles, I gazed into his eyes and unhesitatingly pleaded, “Sir, may I please kiss and lick your feet? I’m so hungry for it. I need your strong feet, Sir, I need to be beneath you.”

He put his hands behind his head and gave a quizzical look as his kind of joke. “You want to lick my feet? They kinda smell though, don’t they boy?”

“Th-that’s why I want them, Sir. They smell because you’ve worked hard… and… and a weak, pathetic boy like me craves to be beneath such powerful feet; to breathe in and taste your sweaty feet is the closest I can be to being a real man like you.” As I said this, I knew he would love it. After yesterday, and remembering how he behaved, I think I’d begun to understand Christian’s psychology, and was now not only pretending to play in the palm of his hand, but working to be dancing in it.

“Wow, now that… that’s some real faggot shit right there,” I braced myself as he proudly attempted to grind my ego to the ground. He lifted a foot and playfully slapped it against my cheek. A light “schlop”-ing sound could be heard as the sweat clung to my skin. Not missing a beat, I began to lovingly rub my face into the soles. Overwhelmed by the wretched scent, but doing everything I could to keep it together. He has to believe you love this, so love it; do everything you can to show you love it, I thought to myself.

“All right, since you’ve been a real good boy, you’ve earned a reward.” My stomach flipped at the word ‘reward’ and though he had not a hint of malice in his eyes or the growing smirk on his face, I was dreading what was to come.

He rose from his seat and walked over to the kitchen, grabbing something out of one of the cabinets.

“Close your eyes, boy, let’s make this a true surprise. You won’t know what’s happening until I tell you to open your eyes again.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by the last part of the statement at first, but I hesitatingly closed my eyes as he commanded. After a second or two when he walked back I realized that last statement… it was somehow like the other days. It somehow had the power to warp reality, or warp my reality at least. Once he sat back down, I couldn’t hear or feel anything. It was like my body was completely free of sensation.

On one hand, this control he had greatly frightened me… and on the other, it felt strangely nice to be freed of all sensation. It’s like what some people say… there’s a sort of freedom in absence. So without realizing, I began to find it incredibly easy to keep my eyes closed. That, however, did not last.

“Good boy,” his voice cut through the silence like a 1,000 degree knife through butter. “Open your eyes and enjoy the first part of your gift.”

Though reluctant, I obeyed and slowly opened my eyes. At first I was confused, but quickly realizing that the soft pink that engulfed my vision was the bottoms of his feet.

Caught off guard, I took a shaky deep breath in and was meant with an overwhelming, dizzying, damp musky scent. I had thought kneeling beside his feet before gave me an idea of the smell, but now it was all I could breathe… That’s when I realized how true that thought was. My mouth had been duct taped shut. Not only that but he managed to move me flat on the ground… whatever he could do to me was that powerful?! This was crazy. I thought he could control me before, but this was something else. I was like an ant at the mercy of a god… A god…?

I couldn’t speak, but I had been slightly wriggling around, which only really had the effect of further burying my face into his sweaty feet. However, it appeared he picked up on my confusion.

“Relax, boy. This is the first part of your reward. I want you to enjoy it. Take nice deep breaths and just relax underneath my feet.” Again, it was strange. He said all this, from what I could tell, without a hint of contempt or malice. He really wanted me to enjoy this. Why? Why would I enjoy this? Why does he think I would enjoy this? I don’t… right?

“I know work’s been stressful lately. But now you can just lie down with your little head on that pillow, enjoy my nice, big feet, and relax.”

I hated that what he said made sense. Work had been stressful this week. All week I could barely focus, and there was so much to do that I could never catch up… All I had wanted to do was be able to just stop and relax. I didn’t want to be here, I wanted to report him and get away… But more than that, I wanted to relax. and I DESERVED to get to just relax.

At least he was nice and put a pillow down here. It did add at least some comfort to this situation. Though I was annoyed that he said I should relax considering the context, he was right. I would never get through these moments if I didn’t.

I closed my eyes, and tried to focus on something, anything, but couldn’t. After a minute I opened my eyes, and was greeted by the huge soles I was forced to breathe in stretching across my face again.

He then shifted and moved his right foot back some so the arch was resting on my forehead and his toes hung over my nose. Finally, my view wasn’t obscured. Though there still wasn’t much to see.

Mindlessly, my eyes drifted along the sides of his sole slowly gliding up toward the toes. They traced along the curves in his toes, winding around to the bottom of the big toe, where my view became obscured by his other foot. Without pause, my eyes then traced back around his toes. Again and again.

It was strange, but I began to lose myself in this process. With my brain thoughtlessly preoccupied, I began to finally, actually relax. Though not conscious of it, the smell of his feet bothered me less and less despite remaining as strong and pungent. I took deep breaths in… and out. Over and over. Just allowing myself to finally let go and start to relax.

Time began to blur until, chuckling, he removed his feet from my view for a second. I could not explain it, but for some reason my heart sank when he did that. Not because I was worried about what he was doing, but…

Interrupting my thoughts, he said a quick, “Sorry ‘bout this!” And before I could react, ripped the duct tape off my mouth.

I groaned in pain as he placed his warm feet back over my face, looking down at me.

“You were just tickling me too damn much before, boy,” he laughed, “Thought maybe removing the tape would help, and we could start the second part of this reward.” As he said that he leaned back and resumed what he was doing, likely playing a game, I now realized. “You can start licking, whenever you want. You’ve earned licking these boys ‘till they’re spotless. I’ll let ya know when you’ve done a good job.”

Once more his feet totally engulfed me. I didn’t have a distraction this time and was left only staring at the shadowy pink fleshy soles above me. It may be weird, I mean his feet were supposedly grossing me out, but it had been so nice losing myself in the outline of his toes and arch. It felt like I learned every crevice and wrinkle along that part of his right foot.

And now I couldn’t distract myself, I was confronted with his feet again. I know I had done this before, but I didn’t know if I had the will to do it again. It had been so bad, so painful before, forcing myself to lick his feet.

In my distress, I began breathing heavily, switching between my mouth and nose, and inadvertently causing my face to get hotter and hotter. It was like a sauna beneath his soles. And as they absorbed the heat it only became hotter. Worst of all, I could begin to feel new sweat lining the bottom of his feet where they pressed into my face. I was only making this worse for myself, but still I couldn’t find the strength to resist and pretend to do what he said.

Within the back of my mind, a part of me I wanted to ignore, acknowledged this would all be easier if he just commanded me to lick his feet. I… didn’t think he had. But maybe that’s why I felt so bad? Maybe because I was resisting. I didn’t know. This was all so confusing.

As I laid there struggling, eventually I felt something drip into my mouth. Instinctively, I swallowed it before realizing it was likely sweat from his feet. A wave of disgust washed over me before… dying down. The taste, it wasn’t that bad. It really wasn’t gross at all. It tasted… fine.

I had been resisting and dreading it because of how gross I thought it had been, but maybe it would be easier to do this than I thought. He must be commanding me and that’s why I feel so bad, I thought to myself. So just go along with it and you’ll get it over with.

Slowly, I opened my mouth more and before I knew it, I felt the warm, salty flesh against my tongue. Quickly I retracted my tongue, and the flavor swirled throughout my mouth. It… it… was fine. It tasted fine. It was even good… I mean I like salty things, so that had to be reason why. Not because it actually tasted good. All I had to do was stop resisting.

I let out a quiet, muffled chuckle and began licking along the arch of his feet, running my tongue up and down, across the soft, warm wrinkles.

Sighing, I closed my eyes, and similar to when I traced the outline of his arch and toes with my eyes, I began to do the same with my tongue along the inside of his arch. Once again, I felt my body relax. It made sense, he had commanded me to lick his feet. Of course obeying would make me feel better. If this is what it would take to get through it… maybe even make it… enjoyable. Then I would just let it happen. I could resist him later.

After a few minutes, I could feel him move the left foot I had been licking to bring me up along the ball of the foot and under the toes. With new area to cover, my tongue began curiously exploring. The ball was rougher and the taste a little more sour, but still not bad. It was fine… good. And as I moved my tongue gliding under the toes the taste became saltier. I found my tongue staying around there more. Without thinking, sliding itself between his toes and unknowingly cleaning out the toe jam from his shoes. In my relaxed state, I found I didn’t mind this… at all. Though that’s nonsense? That’s your controlled thoughts telling you that. Don’t read too much into it, my inner thoughts fought back.

Eventually he moved to his left heel which was similarly more sour like the balls of his feet and after licking it clean, he switched to his right foot. I had already been licking so much, and yet there was still more I got to do. Without hesitation, my tongue dove back in, exploring the new foot, all of its nooks, and its similar flavor I felt safe in.

After finishing licking both feet, he leaned back over and grinned down at me.

“Having a good time?”

I knew I had to cater to his whims, I mean, I knew that, but without thinking it, I muttered out a sheepish, “y-yes… s-sir…”

“Good, you’ve been real good today.” He beamed as he said this, and added, “I saved the best for last. I’m almost done with this area, so while I finish up, you can suck on my toes. Sound good, boy?”

I was starting to squeak out a quiet “mhm” though without waiting, he brought his arches resting on my forehead leaning forward so his toes were pressing against my lips.

Giving myself permission to once again obey him since he must have commanded me to do it anyway, I began opened my mouth and his toes instantly popped in.

A smile crept across my face as I tasted the same salty flavor as when licking under and between his toes, only even stronger now as I fully sucked on them. I shuddered at the intensity of the taste. I knew he must be making me think this taste good, but damn, he was good at it.

He really was kind of like a god… I mean, he could make me enjoy anything. Life would probably be so easy if I just let him take control. I knew this thought was dangerous… but I mean, this dude had me licking his feet and sucking his toes because he could make me do whatever he wanted and he could make me like it! That kind of power is unbelievable. In a way, like, thank god he was making me lick his feet, sweaty or whatever, it was better than something else he could make me do, and I was able to enjoy it.

I think finally fully relaxing and having a calm moment made me realize how out of depth I was thinking before. Reporting him to the police would be dumb; it just wouldn’t work. I’d have to suddenly leave, possibly leaving behind everything. That’s the only way I could get away. But was that worth it…? It had to be, you’re only questioning it because he’s making you feel good about this. You wouldn’t be enjoying his feet otherwise. You have to get out of here at some point.

Despite having these thoughts trying to balance things, I had to be mindful that my whole life was here. My apartment, all my belongings. If I stayed in the area, he could always run into. I’d have to leave the city, this job. That was all too much. Was any of that really worth getting away from Christian so I wouldn’t have to lick his sweaty feet and toes while he helps me to enjoy it?

As these thoughts swam around in my head, I must have finished licking Chris’ toes to his satisfaction as he withdrew them from my mouth.

“Great job, bud.” He beamed slapping my face a few times with his feet. "It’s been a good two hours, and I still have a few errands to run this evening, so I’m gonna head back out. Why don’t you make us some dinner for tonight, maybe I can give you dessert after.” As he finished, though my thoughts initially were that he’d want to have me down at his feet again, as he got up, he grabbed and shook his junk in my face and winked at me. “Everyone loves a happy ending. It'd be a great cap to this perfect day, don’tcha think?”

I silently nodded while crawling to sit up. After sliding on his flip flops and grabbing his keys, he was out the door. Left alone, my heart raced as I had to make a decision on what the hell I was supposed to do.

-

-

-

Hope you all enjoyed the story. This was another one I’d started like a year ago and never got to finishing. A little bit of dabbling into mind control. That’s a theme I have quite in quite a few unfinished stories. Definitely something I find hot and want to explore more, though I sometimes find it difficult to know where to go or how to add fun layers with it in mind. But I know where I’m taking this and plan to have a second part that will cap everything off. I’ll work on that as I work on the third part of the stepdad story and some other WIP’s I have.

I’ve received a few suggestions on story ideas and plan to turn some into something. But I always love hearing what my audience likes to read and what they might want from me, so please feel free to message me any ideas you have or themes you enjoy! I love connecting and talking with people and sharing in the love of sexy, sweaty, and stinky manly feet! (:

[szcremo-deactivated20250901]

He leaned back in the chair, bored, one foot kicked up in your face like it belonged there. And it did. You froze, staring, the dirt on his sole practically glowing like scripture. That was your altar, your place to kneel. Prayer wasn’t folded hands or bowed head—it was pressing your lips to the bottom of his foot, whispering devotion into his skin while he scrolled his phone. He didn’t need to ask, didn’t need to tell you what to do. The prayer was simple: stay on your knees, breathe him in, and prove with every lick, every moan, every whispered ‘amen’ that you were made to worship him

[the-homonationalist]

[str8ballsmatter]

Real men are powerful because they aren’t afraid of saying what they think. Most gay queers wish they had that courage, but they’ve been so brainwashed by political correctness, that they would rather lose to stronger men and stronger opinions.

The moment you stop being offended, it’s when you are strong enough to face reality. And the reality is simple: Straight white men rule this world, and whiny queers wish to be owned by stronger, more powerful men, just like women and weaker animals.

You are a weak gay faggot. You were born to get owned by stronger men. Fags are preys, men are hunters. Fags are slaves, men are kings. Accept the truth and stop being offended by it. Let real men dominate your mind. From now on, nothing they say offends you, and you are thankful for their opinions.

[chrysis30]

I’ve always considered myself to be property.

[dustinrc-deactivated20160331]

[mastersfootrest]

Subjugated by Master Christian

Life was pretty great. I had recently moved out of my small suburban neighborhood out of my parents house after years of saving up and landing a job in the area. It took a lot of time, effort, and willpower to save up the money and resist buying other things. But here I was: sitting on the bed in my new apartment, looking out the window overseeing the busy street below. I had always felt more like a city boy in my eyes, the yawning lull of the suburbs often left me to my own devices bored. I was definitely excited to begin life here.

As I continued unpacking the furniture, adjusting the couch this way, that way, debating where to place the bookshelf, whether to have this painting to the left or right of that painting, the day began to unwind, and with it the settling silence in stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of several hours ago. With this silence a new feeling began settling within me too, loneliness. I had grown up in the town I had just moved from. Everyone I knew lived there. My two brothers and sister still lived there. Though I was only a few hours away, it felt like a world away in this moment. I paused my unpacking, growing uncomfortably lethargic, and sat on the couch, throwing myself against the cushions and staring at the ceiling. Exhaustion crept up in but a moment, and I was out.

-

Yawning, I stretched and swung my legs up in the air using the moment on the way down to surge off of the couch in a single bound. I felt more energetic following the night's rest, but I also came to two realizations. One, I was fucking starving. And two, I needed a roommate, and bad. I had seen a bagel place just down the street and after changing my clothes into the first shirt and shorts I grabbed that went together reasonably well, I headed out the door while navigating google trying to figure out how the hell to find roommates.

Obviously, it wasn't like I had been using google very long before I arrived at the bagel spot, but from what my short search enlightened me to was that this would likely be a longer process than I was expecting and with a degree of trial and error as I reached out to random strangers. I sighed, standing in line while trying to come up with a post when the person in front of me turned around after ordering and nearly bumped into me.

"Sorry bro." He apologized before looking me up and down, laughing "Shit man, nice shirt, don't see something like that everyday." I glanced down at my shirt, actual realizing for the first time which tank I had put on. It was a gag shirt my oldest younger brother had got me, it was art work for Lady Gaga's 'Fame Monster' album but in the style of a black sabbath or metalica-esque band. He liked heavy metal while I preferred pop or alternative music, so while it wasn't really in the vain of my interests, I wasn't going to turn down a Lady Gaga shirt. And, I mean, the guy was right, it wasn't something you necessarily see all the time, especially since this specific shirt had been custom made.

"Hey, thanks, yeah my brother got it as a present." I candidly replied.

"He must be the Lady Gaga fan, huh?" He remarked, with a cheeky wit.

Understanding that he must be referring to my rather flamboyant voice and demeanor, I read between the lines of his joke and playfully reassured him, "Of course, was it that obvious that I love death metal and screamo?"

Chuckling at my comment he continued walking from the counter before taking a seat awaiting his order. Now my turn, and attempting to not hold the line up further, I quickly ordered an everything bagel toasted with cream cheese and a black coffee.

After being handed my coffee, I took to waiting by the counter where orders were being placed once completed until a seat opened up conveniently beside the man from earlier. I walked over to the open seated while continuing to ponder over my previous concerns regarding finding a roommate when the man once again interrupted my thoughts.

"Okay, now I definitely wouldn't have taken you for a black coffee kinda guy, this may not be a starbucks with all that frou frou shit, but they have some other pretty good options."

My turn to laugh, I placed my phone down taking another sip and reassured him, honestly this time, "Thanks man, but I actually, genuinely, do like my coffee black. Gotta have something to give me enough energy to keep going. Black's the only thing that'll do it, and now I'm just so used to it that I can't have anything else."

"Ha, whatever you say man," his eyes quickly glancing down at my phone. "You looking for a roommate?"

My heart suddenly skipped a beat, holy shit, was this stranger really about to be someone I met by complete coincidence that would change my life forever? Would we be best friends? My head was reeling, and unintentionally I replied back with insane sass, "No, I just like pretending that I am." IMMEDIATELY regretting the unnecessary sass, I apologized, "shit I'm so sorry, I just do that with my brothers--"

However, before I could fully apologize the man exploded into raucous laughter. "You're a funny dude you know that."

Blushing I answered, "Yes, though, I am looking for a roommate. I just moved in the area, yesterday actually. Was able to get a two-bed two-bath at the Clarion just down the street, but well... I've never lived alone."

"Shit, dude" he replied before rising to get his order, when he returned a few seconds later he continued, "you must be fucking loaded or something to be living there, right? You a trust fund baby or something?"

Now my turn to laugh, I refuted his assertion, "Nahhh, I'm my parents are better off than a lot of people, I guess. But I got this place and everything in it with my own money." This time, I rose from my seat after finishing my thought to get my bagel.

After sitting back down, he confided, "Well shit man, I mean I know you just met me, but I've been looking for a place. My girl and I just broke up. We've been trying to be diplomatic about the place we were living, but we both can't really stand being around one another right now. She left for her parents to get away for a bit, but asked that I try to find a place while she's gone."

"Damn, I totally get it." I comforted him. He stroked his jaw, while I took a few minutes to really contemplate things. I mean, what the hell, we can see where this goes. "Okay, I'll need some things from you, records of where you lived, and if it's okay, I'd honestly like to speak with your ex just to get an idea of what you're like. But I will say, I can be pretty good about telling when someone's just bullshitting me because they don't like the person in question. So I promise if she tries to do that, I won't take her seriously."

With a huge grin on his face, he rose from his seat, "Perfect, dude! Does now work for me to come see the place?" After assenting, we grabbed our food and coffee and left the store to head up to the apartment.

-

On the way up, he informed me that his name was Christian, or Chris for short, and I told him that mine was Alex. He also provided me with his ex's number. After reaching the 7th floor, we walked down to the end of the long hallway as I removed the keys from my pocket and began unlocking the door.

"Here we are!" I announced, entering the apartment.

After taking in the view, all I heard was "Ho-ly shit, dude. Are you sure you're not loaded?"

"I most certainly am not, but I guess my job is pretty well paying." I chuckled.

"What do you do?" He asked, now likely curious given I was affording this on my own.

"Cyber security," I answered to which he rolled his eyes dramatically. Scoffing, I questioned him, "what was that look for?"

"Come on man, it's like every rich gay dude works in cyber security."

My heart stopped when he said that, I had never said I was gay. I mean I am, but I was shocked he was confident enough in knowing my sexuality to say that... or ignorant enough.

Seeming to read my feelings, he nonchalantly brushed it off, "Sorry dude, I would be able to tell from a mile away. I was just callin' it like I see it, nothing wrong with that."

Well at least he seemingly wasn't a homophobe. "So what do you do then? Lift weights?" I tried to offer as a snarky come back.

Chuckling he asked, "Is that what straight dudes get stereotyped as? I guess it ain't so bad. You're pretty close but just shy of the money shot. Physical trainer." With that he lifted his arms flexing them and his back in a pose meant to show off his physique.

I rolled my eyes this time, but also turned away to hopefully avoid him seeing my face clearly flush with embarrassment. Fuck he was really hot.

"Anyway, you can try hitting up my ex, she should be up now. Mind if I take a look around a little on my own."

"Of course," I replied while beginning to dial up his ex.

True to his expectation she answered the phone, and in a really bitchy manner she demanded to know who was calling her. God, I can see why he broke up with her, I thought. However, despite her initial bitchiness, after understanding the situation her tone drastically changed.

"Oh, yeah," she replied, "you have nothing to worry about. He's not a jackass, just a dumbass. He'll listen to house rules, for the most part. He won't miss rent, I can tell you that. And since you're a guy, I mean you probably won't mind it as much, but he has a tendency to leave his clothes everywhere, that was one thing I couldn't stand. He was literally clean with everything else. He would rinse dishes and put them in the dishwasher, make sure he didn't track dirt in, wouldn't leave trash around the place. But when it came to his clothes, that pig just wouldn't get it through his head." She sighed, before adding one final thing, "oh, and since he's single, I'm sure he's gonna try to be bagging chicks left and right every chance he gets, so have fun with that. But really, he's not a bad guy, we just weren't good for each other. I'm my own person, I have my own shit I want to do. I wasn't there to be his little maid and fucktoy you know. Maybe someone else is fine with that, just not me." Oh honey, you sure know how to talk this bitches ear off. But I got the gist of it. I thanked her and hung up.

Just as I got off the phone, Chris turned the corner with a smirk on his face and inquired, "so what's the verdict?"

"Weeeeeeell, your ex said you're a pig, but otherwise you're nice."

Howling in laughter at that, he quipped, "and she's a bitch, but otherwise nice!" After calming down from his laughter, he admitted, "yeah I wasn't always the best, but I'll try to be better man." He patted me on the shoulder, and I swear I nearly melted into a puddle as he looked into my eyes. "I'll definitely try."

Trying to hold myself together, I gulped hard and squeaked out, "And that's all I could ask of you... roomie."

Patting me on the back, practically knocking all the breath out of my chest, he thanked me profusely before we really began to hammer out the details.

-

-

-

The following weekend after we first met, Christian had moved in. The leasing office at his prior apartment had assured both me and the leasing office here that they has never received any complaints about him and that he had never missed any payments. The week leading up to things was super hectic for me, given this was a new job, although our work can be completed remotely, they wanted me to come in for the first three weeks for training and to get accustomed to everything. Even after he had arrived, although we had hung out, there wasn't nearly as much interaction between us as we would both come home exhausted from our jobs. Chris worked the first half of the week, but then seemed to have off Thursday and Friday, unlike me. However to make up for it, he seemed to work most Saturdays and Sundays with weekend clients. This meant that even on the following weekend after he moved in, we didn't see much of each other.

That Sunday evening, finally beginning to feel a little in my element at work, despite how much was asked of me, and in my new home, I went grocery shopping and planned to make a dinner tonight. Figured I could treat Christian given I kinda neglected him the rest of the week after he had just moved in, and if he didn't want or like my lasagna, well that just left more for me!

After getting home and getting to work, I found myself bored and alone as I sat waiting for the lasagna to bake.

I noticed that true to his Ex’s word, he had been leaving clothes scattered about. With some time to kill, I rolled my eyes and got to picking up after him. For the most part it was a lot of shirts and pants, and many, many socks. Going around actually attending to the mess brought to my attention how it actually affected my environment. Namely, despite not noticing before, it was hard not to be aware of the… scent… his socks had as I picked them up. It was earthy and wet, something that really made my nose scrunch. But I simply sighed, held my breath as best I could, and continued picking up the clothes until everything in the shared living quarters was cleared.

However, when I first stepped into his room, I realized the extent of how messy he could be. Clothes practically covered the entire floor. After putting the dirty clothes from outside his room in his hamper, I was preparing to clean up his room as well. I did have quite a bit of time, after all. As I reached down to grab something, I quickly realized he kept some other pieces of clothing littered here.

Turning my eyes down to my hands, I saw the thing I picked up was a pair of boxers. Initially, I was a little grossed out. But then thinking about who these belonged to… well, Christian was pretty fucking hot. I definitely would not have minded seeing what these boxers covered up.

In the back of my mind, I noticed a squirming little urge. A little voice back there saying that I could bring the boxers to my face, take a sniff. It felt wrong, but damn if I didn’t love dick. Slowly my hands rose to my face and just as they got into proximity to smell, I heard the front door open. My face went flush as I quickly threw the boxers into the hamper and scurried out of his room.

I was worried about what he’d say if he saw me coming out of his room, but thankfully Christian took that need right out of my hands.

“Whoa… Dude, you really tidied up the place. Nice!” He chuckled, taking in the sight. “Shit, you can do my room if you want!"

My face still burning a little, I started mumbling out a response. “Well, um, yeah thanks. I don’t, I mean, maybe I shouldn’t. It’s okay, um…” But barely paying attention to a word I said, Christian just asserted further.

“No really, it’d be awesome if you cleaned up my room. Why don't you do that.”

Nervous, but not wanting to elicit more suspicion, I readily agreed. Besides, I rationalized in my head, looking at the oven timer, I still had another 20 minutes before dinner would be ready. I let Christian know about dinner and headed back into his room as he sat on the couch, kicking his feet up, and put on a game to play.

As I crept back into his room, I tried to focus just on cleaning up the floor as best I could, but that little voice was still in the back of my mind the entire time. After cleaning up most of the clothes, as the timer for the food approached its end, I went out and looked over at him. He was still sitting on the couch fully absorbed in his game. I walked back into his room and there around what little clothes remained was a pair of boxers. I hastily picked them up and giving in to my urges, I once again brought them to my face.

I took a deep breath and felt my eyes roll to the back of my head. I was met with the most manly, musky crotch smell. I couldn’t help myself and kept inhaling. As I did, I noticed there was something else mixed in there. I breathed in as I tried to figure out what it was. It was a more pungent odor and slightly cheesy, but mixed with the smell of his dick, it wasn’t so bad. Finally pulling the underwear away from my face, I flipped it around and looked inside and noticed tucked into the inside of the crotch area was a lone sock.

I felt my stomach flip thinking about smelling his stinking sock and grimaced. Quickly, I grabbed up the last of the clothes just as the timer went off and hurried back into the kitchen.

-

The dinner went well. Chris really enjoyed the food and was super happy with the job I’d done in his room. I definitely didn’t want it to become a recurring event, but it felt nice to hear him praise me.

We spent the rest of the night gaming in the living room, him on the TV with his PS5 and me on my switch. It was really chill and helped to take my mind off of what happened in his room, though I felt pretty guilty smelling his used clothes behind his back.

-

-

-

As the following week started up, my work responsibilities became greater and greater. I was so exhausted after work that I simply went to my room and fell asleep most days. This went on for a few weeks, and due to errands and other responsibilities, even on my days off I was often pretty busy.

Finally, on my first Saturday off, I had some time to myself. After weeks of doing the bare minimum, the place had gone back to being covered in Christian’s clothes. Against my better judgment, I once again spent some time picking up after him, both outside and inside his room. Just as I finished and was sitting down on the couch, he came sauntering in.

“Whew, shit am I glad to be off early. Have I ever told you how crazy this client is?!” He asked rhetorically. “I am exhausted, sometimes feels like they’re working ME out?” He laughed, taking a seat beside me.

I quietly just sat next to him listening.

“Fuck, you did a nice job here. We really should have you doing that more often, right?” He laughed, though I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“Now, since you’ve had the day off and are nice and rested, why don't you make yourself useful some more. My feet need a footrest."

I felt this strange feeling in my chest as he said that and just stared at him like he was crazy. What the hell is he talking about? After a minute, he spoke up again.

“Fine, I’ll do some of the work for you,” he said as he pushed the coffee table aside. “Now I need a nice soft, but solid footrest, so get down on your hands and knees."

I wanted to tell him he was crazy when all of a sudden that feeling in my chest grew more intense and my body moved on it's own. My knees slammed to the ground in front of him and my back stretched flat.

"Wh-what the hell are you doing?" I cried out.

"Nothing," he replied casually. "Your body's moving all on it's own. It just knows what it wants more than that brain of yours does."

He was fucking with me. He had to be fucking with me. I don't know how, but he was somehow controlling me. he had to be.

My head was forced down and my eyes stared into the ground. I heard him slip off his shoes and was met with the most repulsive smell.

"Chris, what the hell did you do to your feet?!" I blurted out.

I suddenly felt him jam one foot into the side of my face. Now I knew part of the reason it reeked so bad. He'd worn his shoes sockless. The repugnant scent only grew stronger so close to my face, making me feel sick to my stomach.

"Didn't I tell you to call me, Sir, boy. You will call me Sir." He jeered, grinding the foot in further.

Like hell I'd do that. I opened my mouth again to speak, and give him a piece of my mind. "I'm sorry, Sir. Please, punish me accordingly for my mistake, Sir." What the fuck just came out of my mouth?!

"Yeah, that's much better." He sighed, contentedly, pushing his foot against my face, knocking it to the side before finally lifting both his legs and dropping them onto my back. From the sound of it, he then turned the TV on to a football game.

I groaned underneath the pressure, yet strangely did not feel an impact to my actual ability in being his foot rest. Though certainly internally feeling the pressure, my body remained steady, no matter how I tried to move it. This only further cemented that something must be going on.

My blood was boiling. Chris had been tolerable up until this point, but this was too much. I thought back to running into him, how attractive I found him, and regretted ever meeting this sick fuck. Without much control I opened my mouth to speak once more.

"Thank you for allowing me to serve you, Sir. It's what a weak little fag like me was made for." My face burned red hot. I can't say anything anymore. Not even the words I said were in my control.

Barely paying attention to me, Chris just crossed his legs, shifting his weight on my back and grunted out, "Yeah, I know."

I say all that and that's the response I get? No... I wanted to shake my head. I understood where that thought came from, clearly whatever he was doing to me was making me grovel pathetically, and I can understand how anyone would feel dejected after that. But that's not the point. That's not what I even wanted to say. I had to bite the urge to say anything further, resulting in me stewing silently beneath his feet. I'm sure he was more than pleased with this as it allowed him to focus on the game without disturbance.

I became lost in my thoughts. If I couldn't move my own body, would I ever be able to get away? Was this just my life from now on? Previously I would have thought a life with Chris would have been great, but I was a clean, pretty vanilla guy. I liked dick in my mouth, in my ass. I liked being rimmed, maybe some nipple play, but like that's it. Sex is already great, you don't have to reinvent the wheel. Now I was stuck here, on my knees, serving as his foot rest. The antithesis of everything that turned me on.

Another thought that came through my head as I sat there contemplating things was the conversation with his ex. So much for not being a jackass! Had he never done this shit with her then? She was true to her word that other than leaving his clothes around he kept things mostly clean. But with the way his cheesy feet turned my stomach, they for sure were not clean.

So did he not do this to his ex? Or did he, and he made it so she couldn't remember? If he did, why did he leave, and why now do it with a guy? Did he get off on seeing a guy be beneath him, groveling?Although sometimes faltering in the face of a hot guy, I tended to always be a very proud and determined guy, I would not stand to be treated like this.

Soon I was no longer combing through my thoughts but actively battling against parts of myself. I couldn't lash out at him. Literally, I could not. He would just turn it into praise and adoration. I had to figure out a way to beat him at his own game.

-

Silently I kneeled there. When I first got in this position it sounded like the start of the football game and though I tuned out for most of it, I could hear that the game had come to a close. It must have been around three hours that I was on my knees with his feet on my back. Though I certainly could feel the weight, I felt relief at the back of my mind that at least whatever was causing this seemed to reinforce my body and it wasn't crying out aching after all this.

I finally felt him lift his legs and feet from my back, but continued to feel stuck in place. I heard him put on his slippers and walk away, into the bathroom to take a piss. As I continued to kneel there I did my best to convince myself everything was okay, he'd probably have me get up and then I could bolt for the door. No-- if I tried to run, he'd probably stop me. I'd have to act like everything was normal, forgive him, at least until he either fell asleep, left, or was so pre-occupied in something that I could sneak out.

With my mind made up, he slowly shuffled back, sitting on the couch once again. He lifted one of his feet and nudged it against my side to move me. For the first time in hours, I felt my body move to the side.

"Move the coffee table back over." He ordered. Quietly, I moved it just as he said and watched him grab a pillow, plopping his huge bare feet onto it.

"You did a good job as my foot stool. You've earned a reward." He praised me. "I was going to have you massage my feet-- which you still are-- but first, you can give them a few kisses, even lick the soles and in between my toes. I'm nothing if not generous to a good boy." I felt my heart drop as he spoke these words. Generous?! The thought of licking his feet made me want to vomit. Just how sick was he?

My mind reeling from this thought, I made a realization: I didn't move. I looked up at him and he nodded, presumably acknowledging this realization. I felt my body nearly jump from my skin from the urge to run. It took all my willpower not to. This must be a trap, I thought. Maybe he somehow knew I was planning to escape, and he wanted to test me. Watch me make a run for it before forcing me to stop and turn back and submit to him anyway.

My own thoughts echoed in my head. I had to beat him at his own game. With that thought in my head, kneeling upright before his feet, I took a deep breath, praying it would help to keep my stomach stable, and I leaned forward.

My first thought as my face came into contact with his feet was how warm they were. It was relatively warm in the apartment, but it must have been from recently using the slippers. This thought, though unsettling from being about his feet, was not the worst thought in the world. But my next thought, as I breathed in the sweaty stench from the source, was just how awful, toxic almost, that smell was. I felt myself gag and begged my body to keep itself together. I have to do this. I told myself again and again. I don't have a choice.

Steeling my resolve, slowly I extended my tongue and felt the soft flesh embrace it. Immediately I was met with the sour taste of his sweat. C'mon, Alex, you can do this, I thought. Most things lose flavor as you lick them, just treat it like that, every time you lick his feet, it'll get better, easier... no, no, don't frame it that way... it'll be less terrible. You just have to endure it for a little longer.

Trying my best to limit my suffering, I began lapping all over his soles. As I ran along the inside of the arch, I heard him let out a deep sigh of relief as he got more comfortable, shoving his feet further into my face. His enjoyment served to reignite some of my anger; I can't believe I'm making this fucker feel good while he's making me suffer so much! I had to visualize physically restraining myself, my anger, and tying it down in an effort to control it. Somehow it worked and I don't even think I visually demonstrated any signs. Not that he was paying attention, leaning back with his eyes closed and hands behind his head. I did what I could, to focus on his feet, as gross as they were, and get rid of as much sweat as I could.

Eventually, I felt him lightly tap my cheek with the foot I wasn't currently licking and I moved back. I couldn't bring myself to look at him.

Despite this, I could tell his eyes were boring into me, almost into my soul, as he spoke, "Hope you enjoyed that as much as I did. I'm sure you did, good boys like you love that shit." I tried not to let his praise get to me, it doesn't matter how much he enjoyed it or how much he tried to make me feel good about it or myself, I wouldn't let that break my will. "Now's about time for a massage. I let you lick a little bit longer, so this'll be a shorter one. We can just go for the next 30 minutes, all right, boy? Get to it."

Wordlessly, I place my hands against the feet I had been licking but a few seconds ago and began massaging as best I could, trying to pretend as though everything was fine.

-

30 minutes passed in the blink of an eye. I guess I was so mentally worn out, I didn't realize how exhausted I was becoming. I had been working my hands mindlessly when suddenly he was the one to pull away. I sighed and averted my eyes as he rose from the couch once more, walking beside me.

"Boy," He spoke. Although I didn't want to, I felt compelled and slowly brought my head up and looked at him, into his eyes. The deep blue eyes I felt almost pulling me out of my body. "You did such a good job today, boy. I'm so proud of you." Once again, I felt resistance to his words attempt to swell in my chest, fighting a failing battle against my exhaustion. "You deserve to rest," he continued as he softly caressed my head, "rest, and let go of any of your worries. Forget whatever is troubling you and remember that you can always rely on me, you take care of me and I will take care of you." As he spoke I felt my eyes grow heavy, heavier, and suddenly, without warning, I collapsed against his legs.

-

I awoke suddenly, out of the cold dreamless sleep, and found myself in my bed. I had a splitting headache and couldn’t remember what the hell happened before I knocked out. I tried to recall and could vaguely piece together getting out of bed, making breakfast, and tidying the place up again, but after that it was all blank.

I shook my head and checked my phone. It was 5:51 AM Sunday. Shit. I don’t know when I went to sleep, but if it was at my normal time around 11 PM, then I’m missing over 12 hours in my memory… Though, gauging by how rested I felt, I was a little skeptical of whether I was awake for that long.

I rose out of bed and meandered about the living room and kitchen, quietly making food and watching something on the TV. After a few hours, I heard the door to Christians’ room open up and he shuffled his way out.

“What’s up, bro?” He yawned, stretching and scratching his furry belly that was slightly exposed. I almost got distracted by the sight of his body, but forced myself to stay focused.

“Good morning.” I greeted him. “Hey, do you know what happened yesterday? I can’t remember anything after cleaning up the place a little…"

“You did a great job, by the way, bro. I fucking love when you do that, so fuckin’ useful.” He praised me, though something in my stomach flipped hearing his praise.

After a pause where he didn’t continue, I pressed further, “Yeah, but what happened after that…"

“We just chilled. I helped you finally relax, you looked fuckin’ exhausted from your work, and before we knew it you were out like a light."

I had been pretty exhausted from work… I opened my mouth to try and dig a little deeper, but he continued on. “Yeah, you seemed real relaxed afterward. So glad I could help. Heh, you helped me to relax too though. So it was a win-win. Definitely something I wouldn’t mind doing again."

Well now I was even more curious. I helped him relax as well? Once again, I started to open my mouth when he just kept talking before I could. “I’m gonna head to the gym for work,” he explained, eating some food leftover from what I’d made this morning. “I end early again today, lots of clients away for the summer. It’s a bummer, but also kinda nice. Maybe we can hang again this afternoon. Have some more fun."

With that, he was out the door before I could get a word in edgewise. ‘Some fun’? What the hell did that mean? My thoughts immediately went to his thick cock. My lips did feel a little sore… But there’s no way. I almost laughed at the thought, though I was drooling a little bit imagining getting to suck Christian’s cock and make him feel good.

Strange, though I knew giving head made someone feel good, I had never been quite so focused on that before. Normally I just enjoyed the act of sex. I liked giving head because I enjoyed it, yet now the most tantalizing part was imagining him with his head back enjoying the experience. I shuffled around cleaning up the dishes before sitting down and trying to relax and take my mind off of things.

However, despite my best efforts, after several hours of trying to distract myself, all I could think about was what the hell happened yesterday. I thought back to what I’d done and an idea came into my head.

Slowly, I rose up and walked around the apartment. Just like when I cleaned up his clothes. I then ambled into his room and looked around. I could vaguely remember his clothes strewn about the previous day. Suddenly his voice echoed through my mind. 'We really should have you doing that more often, right?’ I shuddered as something that felt beyond my memories came into grasp. I stared at his hamper before slowly making my way to it. Mindlessly, I began rooting through it until I touched something and a part of my mind lit up. I moved my hand around until I grabbed the soft fabric and pulled it out.

In my hand lay one of his dirty socks. My eyes rested on it quizzically for a few minutes as something lie just out of reach in my mind. Then all at once I dropped the sock and made my way out of his room. My body moved on its own until I stood before couch. I shifted the coffee table out of the way and dropped to my knees. This whole time my head was pounding. But as I kneeled there something happened. It happened within a second, I was confused and lost in one moment and the next scenes flashed before my eyes as if they were events that happened to someone else as I watched.

I saw myself on my hands and knees, Christian’s big feet on my back. Then I saw his feet on swallowing my face, and could almost feel the heat and moisture from being underneath them. I could actually feel my tongue running along the bottoms and the taste of his dirty, sweaty soles spreading across it.

My heart began racing and my breathing picked up. I was losing it. What the hell. What the actual fuck. How could I forget all that? It was him… That’s right, he somehow controlled me. Of course he could probably get me to forget what happened. I slowed my breathing to try and calm me down. I needed to figure out what the hell I was going to do. Run away? Call the cops? I needed to do something. At the very least, I needed to get away.

Just as I had that thought, I heard the front door open. My heart sank and I could feel my body tense up and freeze. There would be no way to get out now, I thought as I watched him enter.

“Hey! Perfect! You’re already in position!” He chuckled to himself. “You can remember now. That’s awesome, I need to relax, bro."

As he spoke, at some point it felt like the flood gates of memories opened even wider. I could remember every second of being down on the floor beneath him. And here I was again, kneeling before him as he sat down and kicked off his shoes, revealing his bare feet.

I was freaking out and still felt like I couldn’t move. You have to calm down, I thought to myself. You can get out of this, but you have to get through this now. You have no idea what he can do, so you have to go along with whatever he would want.

He scooched the table back over as he plopped his feet down on top of it. His big, sweaty, stinky feet stood before me once again. They were disgusting after being in his shoes sockless. But I knew what I had to do. No matter what I had to act like I was playing in the palm of his hand. Looking up between those towering soles, I gazed into his eyes and unhesitatingly pleaded, “Sir, may I please kiss and lick your feet? I’m so hungry for it. I need your strong feet, Sir, I need to be beneath you.”

He put his hands behind his head and gave a quizzical look as his kind of joke. “You want to lick my feet? They kinda smell though, don’t they boy?”

“Th-that’s why I want them, Sir. They smell because you’ve worked hard… and… and a weak, pathetic boy like me craves to be beneath such powerful feet; to breathe in and taste your sweaty feet is the closest I can be to being a real man like you.” As I said this, I knew he would love it. After yesterday, and remembering how he behaved, I think I’d begun to understand Christian’s psychology, and was now not only pretending to play in the palm of his hand, but working to be dancing in it.

“Wow, now that… that’s some real faggot shit right there,” I braced myself as he proudly attempted to grind my ego to the ground. He lifted a foot and playfully slapped it against my cheek. A light “schlop”-ing sound could be heard as the sweat clung to my skin. Not missing a beat, I began to lovingly rub my face into the soles. Overwhelmed by the wretched scent, but doing everything I could to keep it together. He has to believe you love this, so love it; do everything you can to show you love it, I thought to myself.

“All right, since you’ve been a real good boy, you’ve earned a reward.” My stomach flipped at the word ‘reward’ and though he had not a hint of malice in his eyes or the growing smirk on his face, I was dreading what was to come.

He rose from his seat and walked over to the kitchen, grabbing something out of one of the cabinets.

“Close your eyes, boy, let’s make this a true surprise. You won’t know what’s happening until I tell you to open your eyes again.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by the last part of the statement at first, but I hesitatingly closed my eyes as he commanded. After a second or two when he walked back I realized that last statement… it was somehow like the other days. It somehow had the power to warp reality, or warp my reality at least. Once he sat back down, I couldn’t hear or feel anything. It was like my body was completely free of sensation.

On one hand, this control he had greatly frightened me… and on the other, it felt strangely nice to be freed of all sensation. It’s like what some people say… there’s a sort of freedom in absence. So without realizing, I began to find it incredibly easy to keep my eyes closed. That, however, did not last.

“Good boy,” his voice cut through the silence like a 1,000 degree knife through butter. “Open your eyes and enjoy the first part of your gift.”

Though reluctant, I obeyed and slowly opened my eyes. At first I was confused, but quickly realizing that the soft pink that engulfed my vision was the bottoms of his feet.

Caught off guard, I took a shaky deep breath in and was meant with an overwhelming, dizzying, damp musky scent. I had thought kneeling beside his feet before gave me an idea of the smell, but now it was all I could breathe… That’s when I realized how true that thought was. My mouth had been duct taped shut. Not only that but he managed to move me flat on the ground… whatever he could do to me was that powerful?! This was crazy. I thought he could control me before, but this was something else. I was like an ant at the mercy of a god… A god…?

I couldn’t speak, but I had been slightly wriggling around, which only really had the effect of further burying my face into his sweaty feet. However, it appeared he picked up on my confusion.

“Relax, boy. This is the first part of your reward. I want you to enjoy it. Take nice deep breaths and just relax underneath my feet.” Again, it was strange. He said all this, from what I could tell, without a hint of contempt or malice. He really wanted me to enjoy this. Why? Why would I enjoy this? Why does he think I would enjoy this? I don’t… right?

“I know work’s been stressful lately. But now you can just lie down with your little head on that pillow, enjoy my nice, big feet, and relax.”

I hated that what he said made sense. Work had been stressful this week. All week I could barely focus, and there was so much to do that I could never catch up… All I had wanted to do was be able to just stop and relax. I didn’t want to be here, I wanted to report him and get away… But more than that, I wanted to relax. and I DESERVED to get to just relax.

At least he was nice and put a pillow down here. It did add at least some comfort to this situation. Though I was annoyed that he said I should relax considering the context, he was right. I would never get through these moments if I didn’t.

I closed my eyes, and tried to focus on something, anything, but couldn’t. After a minute I opened my eyes, and was greeted by the huge soles I was forced to breathe in stretching across my face again.

He then shifted and moved his right foot back some so the arch was resting on my forehead and his toes hung over my nose. Finally, my view wasn’t obscured. Though there still wasn’t much to see.

Mindlessly, my eyes drifted along the sides of his sole slowly gliding up toward the toes. They traced along the curves in his toes, winding around to the bottom of the big toe, where my view became obscured by his other foot. Without pause, my eyes then traced back around his toes. Again and again.

It was strange, but I began to lose myself in this process. With my brain thoughtlessly preoccupied, I began to finally, actually relax. Though not conscious of it, the smell of his feet bothered me less and less despite remaining as strong and pungent. I took deep breaths in… and out. Over and over. Just allowing myself to finally let go and start to relax.

Time began to blur until, chuckling, he removed his feet from my view for a second. I could not explain it, but for some reason my heart sank when he did that. Not because I was worried about what he was doing, but…

Interrupting my thoughts, he said a quick, “Sorry ‘bout this!” And before I could react, ripped the duct tape off my mouth.

I groaned in pain as he placed his warm feet back over my face, looking down at me.

“You were just tickling me too damn much before, boy,” he laughed, “Thought maybe removing the tape would help, and we could start the second part of this reward.” As he said that he leaned back and resumed what he was doing, likely playing a game, I now realized. “You can start licking, whenever you want. You’ve earned licking these boys ‘till they’re spotless. I’ll let ya know when you’ve done a good job.”

Once more his feet totally engulfed me. I didn’t have a distraction this time and was left only staring at the shadowy pink fleshy soles above me. It may be weird, I mean his feet were supposedly grossing me out, but it had been so nice losing myself in the outline of his toes and arch. It felt like I learned every crevice and wrinkle along that part of his right foot.

And now I couldn’t distract myself, I was confronted with his feet again. I know I had done this before, but I didn’t know if I had the will to do it again. It had been so bad, so painful before, forcing myself to lick his feet.

In my distress, I began breathing heavily, switching between my mouth and nose, and inadvertently causing my face to get hotter and hotter. It was like a sauna beneath his soles. And as they absorbed the heat it only became hotter. Worst of all, I could begin to feel new sweat lining the bottom of his feet where they pressed into my face. I was only making this worse for myself, but still I couldn’t find the strength to resist and pretend to do what he said.

Within the back of my mind, a part of me I wanted to ignore, acknowledged this would all be easier if he just commanded me to lick his feet. I… didn’t think he had. But maybe that’s why I felt so bad? Maybe because I was resisting. I didn’t know. This was all so confusing.

As I laid there struggling, eventually I felt something drip into my mouth. Instinctively, I swallowed it before realizing it was likely sweat from his feet. A wave of disgust washed over me before… dying down. The taste, it wasn’t that bad. It really wasn’t gross at all. It tasted… fine.

I had been resisting and dreading it because of how gross I thought it had been, but maybe it would be easier to do this than I thought. He must be commanding me and that’s why I feel so bad, I thought to myself. So just go along with it and you’ll get it over with.

Slowly, I opened my mouth more and before I knew it, I felt the warm, salty flesh against my tongue. Quickly I retracted my tongue, and the flavor swirled throughout my mouth. It… it… was fine. It tasted fine. It was even good… I mean I like salty things, so that had to be reason why. Not because it actually tasted good. All I had to do was stop resisting.

I let out a quiet, muffled chuckle and began licking along the arch of his feet, running my tongue up and down, across the soft, warm wrinkles.

Sighing, I closed my eyes, and similar to when I traced the outline of his arch and toes with my eyes, I began to do the same with my tongue along the inside of his arch. Once again, I felt my body relax. It made sense, he had commanded me to lick his feet. Of course obeying would make me feel better. If this is what it would take to get through it… maybe even make it… enjoyable. Then I would just let it happen. I could resist him later.

After a few minutes, I could feel him move the left foot I had been licking to bring me up along the ball of the foot and under the toes. With new area to cover, my tongue began curiously exploring. The ball was rougher and the taste a little more sour, but still not bad. It was fine… good. And as I moved my tongue gliding under the toes the taste became saltier. I found my tongue staying around there more. Without thinking, sliding itself between his toes and unknowingly cleaning out the toe jam from his shoes. In my relaxed state, I found I didn’t mind this… at all. Though that’s nonsense? That’s your controlled thoughts telling you that. Don’t read too much into it, my inner thoughts fought back.

Eventually he moved to his left heel which was similarly more sour like the balls of his feet and after licking it clean, he switched to his right foot. I had already been licking so much, and yet there was still more I got to do. Without hesitation, my tongue dove back in, exploring the new foot, all of its nooks, and its similar flavor I felt safe in.

After finishing licking both feet, he leaned back over and grinned down at me.

“Having a good time?”

I knew I had to cater to his whims, I mean, I knew that, but without thinking it, I muttered out a sheepish, “y-yes… s-sir…”

“Good, you’ve been real good today.” He beamed as he said this, and added, “I saved the best for last. I’m almost done with this area, so while I finish up, you can suck on my toes. Sound good, boy?”

I was starting to squeak out a quiet “mhm” though without waiting, he brought his arches resting on my forehead leaning forward so his toes were pressing against my lips.

Giving myself permission to once again obey him since he must have commanded me to do it anyway, I began opened my mouth and his toes instantly popped in.

A smile crept across my face as I tasted the same salty flavor as when licking under and between his toes, only even stronger now as I fully sucked on them. I shuddered at the intensity of the taste. I knew he must be making me think this taste good, but damn, he was good at it.

He really was kind of like a god… I mean, he could make me enjoy anything. Life would probably be so easy if I just let him take control. I knew this thought was dangerous… but I mean, this dude had me licking his feet and sucking his toes because he could make me do whatever he wanted and he could make me like it! That kind of power is unbelievable. In a way, like, thank god he was making me lick his feet, sweaty or whatever, it was better than something else he could make me do, and I was able to enjoy it.

I think finally fully relaxing and having a calm moment made me realize how out of depth I was thinking before. Reporting him to the police would be dumb; it just wouldn’t work. I’d have to suddenly leave, possibly leaving behind everything. That’s the only way I could get away. But was that worth it…? It had to be, you’re only questioning it because he’s making you feel good about this. You wouldn’t be enjoying his feet otherwise. You have to get out of here at some point.

Despite having these thoughts trying to balance things, I had to be mindful that my whole life was here. My apartment, all my belongings. If I stayed in the area, he could always run into. I’d have to leave the city, this job. That was all too much. Was any of that really worth getting away from Christian so I wouldn’t have to lick his sweaty feet and toes while he helps me to enjoy it?

As these thoughts swam around in my head, I must have finished licking Chris’ toes to his satisfaction as he withdrew them from my mouth.

“Great job, bud.” He beamed slapping my face a few times with his feet. "It’s been a good two hours, and I still have a few errands to run this evening, so I’m gonna head back out. Why don’t you make us some dinner for tonight, maybe I can give you dessert after.” As he finished, though my thoughts initially were that he’d want to have me down at his feet again, as he got up, he grabbed and shook his junk in my face and winked at me. “Everyone loves a happy ending. It'd be a great cap to this perfect day, don’tcha think?”

I silently nodded while crawling to sit up. After sliding on his flip flops and grabbing his keys, he was out the door. Left alone, my heart raced as I had to make a decision on what the hell I was supposed to do.

-

-

-

Hope you all enjoyed the story. This was another one I’d started like a year ago and never got to finishing. A little bit of dabbling into mind control. That’s a theme I have quite in quite a few unfinished stories. Definitely something I find hot and want to explore more, though I sometimes find it difficult to know where to go or how to add fun layers with it in mind. But I know where I’m taking this and plan to have a second part that will cap everything off. I’ll work on that as I work on the third part of the stepdad story and some other WIP’s I have.

I’ve received a few suggestions on story ideas and plan to turn some into something. But I always love hearing what my audience likes to read and what they might want from me, so please feel free to message me any ideas you have or themes you enjoy! I love connecting and talking with people and sharing in the love of sexy, sweaty, and stinky manly feet! (:

[nyfeet]

[footslaveforalphamales-deactiva]

It started as him simply getting comfortable, I’m sure he didn’t realize how things would progress. But from the moment I set my eyes on those big, wide feet, I knew my place belonged kneeling before them.

Every day after work he would routinely lie on the couch, rip his socks off, and put his feet up. As soon as I heard the keys unlock the door, I would be sure to make it seem like I was naturally making my way to sit down on the other couch adjacent to the one where he was lying and would sit as close as I could to his feet without looking conspicuous. I would wait until it seemed like he was engrossed in watching something and then I would begin stealing my glances at his feet. If he seemed especially interested in a show or film then I might even take a risk and take a few longer stares.

This routine happened for about a month, weekends were a bit more touch and go since he would sometimes be out all day. Then one day he put on a football game and about thirty minutes in I started stealing a few glances and then stared for what I swear was only a couple seconds. When I finally managed to tear my eyes away from his beautiful feet, I looked up to find him staring at me. “I-I can explain...” I tried to stutter out, but he shut me down,

“Don’t even bother coming up with some random excuse,” his voice sent chills down my spine and made me feel guilty, not for staring at his feet, but strangely enough it made me feel guilty for trying to stare at his feet without him knowing. “I’ve seen you watching my feet for almost a month now because I noticed almost immediately after you started, trust me, you’re not that slick. I wanted to test something out and see how long it would be before you knew you were caught. I started doing the same thing, doing everything I could to have my feet up and give you every chance to stare... and every chance to realize that I was merely playing with you. But then a week passed, and a week became two weeks, and two weeks became a month. I was starting to think you might be too dense to realize I noticed. But at long last, here we are.”

I almost felt too scared to respond, but after several seconds of silence, I finally managed to meekly squeak out: “h-h-here we are?”

A smile crept across his face, though I couldn’t tell how sincere it was. “Yes, boy, here we are. Or rather, here you are. You see you’re at a crossroads. You can stay there, pretending to cling on to any manhood and you will never look at my feet again, or you can get on your hands and knees on the floor and be my footstool for the remainder of this game. Should you choose the latter, you might get to give me a foot rub or whatever I might want you to do after the game ends. And even if you do a shit job, don’t worry, you’ll get to work on your footstool skills and try again tomorrow and maybe then you’d improve and I’d let you rub my feet. Either way, you stay where you are and never have a chance to worship these feet, or you get on the floor and be prepared to serve me and my feet for the rest of your life and you’ll get the chance to worship my feet as you earn it.”

Before he was even finished my mind was made up. I made my way on to the ground, straightening my back as he sat up and placed his huge, godly feet on my back.

“Good boy, you made the right choice.”