Just a Footboy

Something I included in my last story, after a lot of consideration, was an option to tip me. In that post I emphasize there is no pressure to tip, and it how you tip and how much is entirely up to you. I think maybe it inherently has an option to tip monthly, but I was primarily thinking if anybody wanted to make use of it, that it’d be a case by case basis, perhaps after particularly enjoyed stories. There’s no real minimum except maybe a dollar, haha, so there’s no pressure for those who want to support me to do anything that’s inconvenient or too sacrificial.

I want this to be for people who really enjoy my work, want to support me, and offer additional motivation for me to be more consistent with putting out stories.

Either way, I appreciate the continued support from all my fellow foot lovers, whether it be via likes, reblogs, kind words, or through this new option to tip me!

Jack’s Army Feet

My parents, though really my dad, made me join the army a few months ago to try and give some direction in my life, and, as my dad put it, “make a man out of me.” The life drained out of my face when they first told me they submitted an application and went through the process all on their own. What the fuck did they mean I was going to join the fucking army? I was a skinny guy who mostly just liked playing video games and jerking off to porn occasionally. Over the past few years I’d come to terms with likely being gay; though honestly, I often didn’t picture any guys when I got off. More so what attracted me than looks was dependability, maturity, and strength. And while women could have all these traits, there was something about envisioning them in a guy that made me feel more warm inside. I felt more secure. I would often jerk off more to the idea of living a life with a man who made me feel secure and a life where we could both rely on each other than necessarily thinking about his cock or ass… so that was still to be explored.

But now with this new development, it felt like really coming to understand myself better would be halted. I practically had a meltdown that night and the only thing that calmed me down was when they told me it could be a few months before they had me physically live on the base. Though that reassurance was cheap, it was enough to stop me from continuing to have a nervous break down. I spent the rest of those months trying to enjoy my freedom as much as I could and researching what the fuck they’d gotten me into.

The time between joining and moving in here passed in the blink of an eye and having been here for a few months now, I was pleasantly surprised to find my research proved correct. It seemed nowadays joining the army was much less like the movies with all that ridiculous living in a shed with 40 people and constantly doing insane training montages. They still had us working out, and they still tried to break us down and mold us into these obedient machines. But, we at least got our own rooms… mostly. Instead of living in a giant shed with 40 people, we basically lived in studio apartments with a roommate. Unfortunately, my roommate, Jack, was a little bit of an ass. But another bonus was we did have a lot more freedom than I expected. Although I couldn’t spend my free time in my room because I tried avoid Jack, I at least kept my laptop on the base with me and would take it to a local library where I’d play my computer games in my downtime.

That was what I planned to do this evening; however, my base had other plans. They enacted a curfew after a few of the guys got a little too drunk and up to no good. The person enforcing that regulation made it clear they were planning to keep it that way for at least a few weeks.

“Fuck.” I muttered under my breath as I walked back to my room. I was dreading having to actually exist in the same space as Jack for any longer than necessary. He was basically the exact opposite of the type of guy’s I fantasized about. He was immature, unserious, unreliable, and unpredictable. There was basically a line across our room where you saw whose space was where. And my space was constantly gradually decreasing because Jack persisted in leaving his clothes unwashed. They occasionally did room checks and while Jack always failed and would get yelled at, they would rope me into it for some reason. They’d say that I should be more supportive and help him as if he was a fucking child. Wasn’t the whole reason I was thrown into this because my parents believed I needed to be whipped into shape? Why was it now my job to either whip someone else into shape or baby them?

In spite of myself, every month we had a room check, and for the three months I’d been here now, every single time I cleaned up the entire room. And every single time, without fail, Jack would make some snide remark about being a “good little bitch” or how he was “so glad I realized my duty here.” It infuriated me to no end.

Despite his horrible organization, Jack was fit and strong. He was readily at the top of the class in terms of training, and so it really seemed like they favored him and overlooked his faults for that reason. Whereas I was left to pick up after him because I was the inverse: maintaining everything orderly, but struggling to do any physical labor.

I sighed as I entered the room and already saw Jack lying on his bed, picking between his toes as he scrolled on his phone. “‘Sup Quent. This fucking sucks, right? I could be out hooking up with a chick in a bar and instead I have to be stuck here doing fuck all.”

I rolled my eyes as I sat down at my desk and opened my computer, getting ready to pull up a game. “Yeah, terrible.” I feigned sympathetically. I scrolled through my library trying to zone Jack out when I felt his hands grab my shoulders and spin me around.

“Cooooooooome oooooooon. We have to do something together. You can’t let me just rot here alone.” Jack whined, which I was gathering he was real good at and probably did often back at home. However, he wasn’t fooling me. He was an asshole. He constantly left work for me to do, he’d be degrading when I was forced to do it, and I’ve seen the way he’s talked about the women he dates like they’re objects and dispensable. Jack was, for better or worse, undeniably an attractive guy. Again, not really one to care about looks, it didn’t affect me much. But he had women drooling to be with him, and he was constantly making them do shit for him. Needless to stay, I did not want to be the continued victim of being used for his needs any more than this place forced.

“I’d really rather just play a game.” I asserted as forcefully as I could.

“Then let’s play something together,” Jack pleaded. “You know I’ve told you I have a PS5 back home. I’m just waiting to buy a TV so I can use it.”

“They make us work. We’ve gotten paid for that. It may not be much since we have free housing and food, but it’s been at least enough for a TV,” I argued, trying to turn my chair back around.

Jack gripped the arm rest and held it down, though, spitting, “We’re gonna fucking do something. I don’t give a shit if it’s a game. I tried to be nice, but I’m not a fucking pansy. I’ll take what I want if I have to.” Suddenly his arm was around my neck and he threw me to the ground.

“Ow!” I shouted on my knees, crawling away from him a little before turning around. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Having some fun!” Jack exclaimed as if that clarified anything. His arms were outstretched and as I maneuvered around on the ground trying to get back to my laptop, he mimicked the direction I went and cut me off from it. Suddenly he was on the ground on top of me. I tried to crawl backwards to get away, but Jack was faster and grabbed my arms, pinning me down.

“Jack, stop!” I whisper-yelled, trying not to make too much noise as I struggled to break free. It was clear, however, that his dominant strength was winning out. I was simply too much smaller and weaker than he was.

“What? Come on, just think of this as more training! You gotta be able to get out from underneath me. What happens if you get into a fight and are pinned down? You just gonna let them fuckin’ beat the shit out of you and kill you?”

“What are you talking about?” I bit back, growing increasingly frustrated the longer I was underneath him. “I’m not gonna get into a fight with anyone! I’m not an asshole like you!”

“Really?! ‘Cause your nice ‘ol roommate just tried to play a game with you and you certainly seemed like an asshole then!” “Nice!?” I preposterously shouted, “you’re the furthest fucking thing from nice! Now get off… of… me!” My body wriggled and I could feel it start to loosen from underneath his grip. I didn’t give a shit if I’d get yelled at, I was leaving this damn room!

“Fine, you want mean Jack? You want me to be a bully? I’ll show you what that looks like pansy!” Just as I was beginning to slip from underneath him, Jack readjusted. His feet went between my legs, stretching over them so his knees were just below my waist, weighing down my own legs. Then, he unexpectedly let go of one of my arms. However, it was for a split second, and I was too caught off guard by the change to take advantage of it. Within a second, he descended on me, his sleeve riding up his arm until his pit was exposed. Before I could tell what was happening my face was in his armpit. “Come on, faggot, take a big ‘ol whiff!”

“Mmmmueeghh” I groaned beneath Jack. I could feel the sweat that had built up smearing against my face and dripping into my mouth as I cried out. I fought back vigorously. However, the edge I had earlier had been lost, and I was struggling to budge an inch. Worn out and tired, and with my mouth firmly pressed inside of his put, I had no choice but to take sharp inhales of stench.

“Thaaaaaat’s it. Stop trying to fight it, bitch boy. How does it fucking smell in there?”

With my mouth unable to open, the best I could muster in response was a muffled, “Shmmmminnn.” My response inadvertently forced me to fully exhale. Between the lightheadedness from exerting myself and from the scent of his disgusting pits, I was feeling weak and helpless. All I could do was keep breathing in the acidic scent.

My head spun in circles as I desperately clung to consciousness. My breathing had hiked before sharply slowing down as my vision tunneled. Finally, I felt the pressure from Jack’s body pinning me down lighten as he rose up.

“Come on, man, I’m giving you a chance now.” Jack laughed to himself, rising from the ground. “You can get up and try to take me down now.” He partially squatted and patted his thighs, taunting me. “Come on, you gotta get me, otherwise it’ll be tooooo easy for me to keep winning, and there’s noooo way I’d want that.” His shit eating grin gave away his true feelings, he had something more planned, especially if I couldn’t get up.

I groaned in pain from my spinning head and tried to move my body but couldn’t. All I could do was tightly shut my eyes.

“Oh boy, you’re running out of time,” Jack continued as I heard his foot steps re-approach me.

“Jack…” I tried to muffle out, feeling a disconnect between my brain and the rest of my body.

“Ah, ah, ah, you gotta get up and take me down.” I could hear additional movement as Jack continued to move around. “Come on, just gotta put up a little bit of a fight, man. You can do that, right?” I willed my body to move, to at least maneuver my head, but still nothing happened. Finally I opened my eyes and as the world slowly kaleidoscoped into focus, I saw a tall pink mountain slowly descend upon my face.

“Since you loved my pits so much, I have another treat for you,” Jack could barely stifle his own laughter. “But only if you can’t find it in yourself to move. Otherwise, you must want me to pin that little face of yours under my feet, riiiight?”

With my world now focused I began to catch that rancid scent of his bare foot. Compared to his pit it was lot more cheesy and foul than a burning acidic scent. That’s right… training earlier had involved a lot of running. Fuck… I… I needed to move. I willed my head to move, to the left, to the right. Anywhere, I needed to do anything to avoid this. I felt the atmosphere of his foot, as if the sweat from it somehow hung in the space around his foot, engulf my face. My eyes rolled to the back and somewhere deep inside me I knew movement had become impossible by that point, even as my mind desperately screamed to move.

As the slick sweat finally pressed into my face, I no longer wanted to fight against my consciousness. I wanted that darkness to take over and relieve me from this… But pray as I might now for unconsciousness to take me, somehow it was now escaping. Powerless and weak, I lied on the floor as Jack smeared his disgusting, wet, dank foot across my face. “Haha, that’s right, faggot.” Jack taunted, “That’s what a real man smells like. I know your pansy ass wouldn’t know shit about that, but take it fucking in. Enjoy it. This is as close to being a man as you’ll ever fucking be, just breathing in my ripe ass feet.”

His words swam in my head as it pounded against the raw, cheesy stink. What the fuck was he talking about? His foot sweat was a sign he was a real man? There’s no way that was true… I don’t know why but him saying that tugged at something in my brain.

In trying to understand my sexuality, I always found myself drawn to composed, strong men. Dependable, reliable. Hardworking. This is what I envisioned “true men” being, I suppose. And Jack was strong and maybe hardworking at the gym, but he was so vastly different than what I ever imagined a “true man” to be. But… if they were hardworking, I suppose they might get a little sweaty, would that mean their feet stink… like this? Why did that even matter? That’s the part I couldn’t understand or shake. Even if there was some logic that could make that make sense, why the hell was it so stuck in my head. This is what a real man smells like, that phrase just bounced around endlessly. 

At some point, Jack lifted his dank foot from my face, and grinned down at me. “So what is gonna happen next is that I’m gonna play some shit on your computer and you’re gonna be a good, quiet little fag and let me, got it?” Still overwhelmed by everything that happened, I couldn’t bring myself to answer. This only seemed to please Jack, however, perhaps content with his ability to break me down. “I’ll take your silence as obedience,” he said standing up, “That’s a good faggot. See how easy it is when you just do what I say?” He tapped my face one last time with his bare foot before turning around and sitting at my desk.

I could hear him messing around with the computer before I heard the familiar sound of one of the games starting up. As he got comfortable, I slowly brought my mind back into focus and finally found the strength to move. Groaning, I crawled to my knees before wobbling on my feet and walked out of the room. I ambled to a bathroom and sat down in one of the stalls, cupping my face in my hands as I tried to process what the fuck just happened. As I sat there, I could still pick up faint traces of his foot stink clinging to my face, lightly spinning my head. Exhausted I went back to my room and crawled into bed, covering my head with a blanket until I fell asleep. The entire time, continuing to breath in the foot stench that clung to my face as his words replayed in my head.

-

The next few days I did everything I could to avoid Jack. I just let him have free rein of my computer because I did not want to fight him again. I was constantly on edge, expecting him to do something similar despite my obedience. He’d be sitting at my desk, angrily tapping his feet as he struggled in one of the games, and with every tap a vivid image of him forcing me underneath the desk and instead tapping his foot against my face would flash across my mind. It made me deeply uncomfortable on the surface level simply because it was a disgusting and mean thing to do, but also because his words felt burned into my mind. That was the smell of a real man. For some reason that thought wouldn’t get out of my head. 

It didn’t help either as the days passed and we continued to engage in rigorous training, one night I felt this gnawing curiosity that I tried to resist as much as I could. But after Jack left to take a shower, I couldn’t resist it any longer. I grabbed my own shoes and tried to smell them. Whatever I was thinking was clearly flawed, but I think I was figuring that if my feet smelled like his then it would disprove whatever he tried to assert— that I was as much a man as him. I’d never paid much attention to the smell of my own feet, I suppose because it was simply something I never thought would be relevant, but now it seemed that perhaps there was another reason. After trying to taking a light whiff I found that there was very little scent at all. Despite us doing the same training, the same workouts, there was something about his feet that made them reek like that. Because he’s a real man. That thought forced its way into my psyche and suddenly I felt another scratching urge.

I glanced over at the door. It had only been a few minutes… I quietly snuck over to his bed, as if I was trying to hide from someone not even here. Letting go of all inhibition I pulled the trigger, quickly grabbing a boot of his and raising it to my face. Immediately I was met by the same pungent stench that had engulfed me just a few days prior. Shaking, I continued to hold the boot at my face as I took deeper and deeper inhales. This is a real man’s smell? Jack is a real man? I… I don’t know what I want, but I thought I might want a real man… That would mean I want Jack? That’s not possible… Is it?

I heard some footsteps outside and quickly dropped the boot and ran back to my bed. After a minute, Jack walked into the room. Right as he did, I noticed the straining sensation in my pants and quickly threw my blanket over my hard on, praying he didn’t notice. As I looked back up, I saw Jack staring at his phone as he sauntered over to his bed. As soon as he walked past me, I got up and grabbed my own toiletries and clothes and went to take a cold shower myself. My face was burning red as I went out the door.

-

As more and more days passed until about two weeks since the incident with Jack, I still couldn’t take my mind off the experience. I noticed that I started paying attention to the feet of other guys in our unit, especially those who seemed more mature, and wondering whether their feet reeked like Jack’s. They must, I absentmindedly thought that day, I mean, there’s no way Keith and Darius aren’t real men being as dependable as they are, so their feet must reek too after all this training. As these thoughts sifted through my mind, I felt more and more out of place. I really did feel like a boy amongst men. Jack had so easily overpowered me that day, and there was no doubt in my mind that any of these other guys could do the same. At the same time, it felt easier and easier to see Jack as what I had thought a “real man” was. 

Once we were back in our rooms, I tried to busy myself on my phone and reading a book for most of the day. At some point Jack left the room, and perhaps it was due to these salient thoughts that after a while I made my way to my laptop. Jack hadn’t been as interested in it today, so I booted it up and found myself typing out the thoughts that have been eating away at my mind for the last two weeks. “Do real men’s feet stink?” It felt a little silly googling this question, but nevertheless I hit enter and was met by some unexpected search results.

The first few were about what I expected without really answering the question: a reddit page on someone asking why their feet stink so much and how to solve that, a quora thread on someone asking for help with their husband’s smelly feet. It wasn’t until I scrolled down that I got different results. On what appeared to be a gay porn website it had the title “Twink worships alpha males feet,” then below that was another link to a different gay porn site with the video title of “time to serve a real man faggot.”

Gradually, my heart started to speed up as I read through these titles. I felt a lump in my throat as I click the link to the second website. I turned down the volume and played the video. After a few seconds it cut to a POV from on the ground as a guy stretched his feet toward the camera. He started talking very confidently with a strong, deep voice praising the viewer for being a good “fag” for knowing their place. This man stretched and flexed his toes in the frame as he continued on about how real men deserve to have weak, pretty little boys on the ground beneath them. He said how faggots were inherently weaker and needed a strong man to take control, to assert their power; and how naturally a fag found solace in giving himself up to a real man.

I knew he was talking to the camera and not anybody in specific, but it felt like he was talking to me. Something about the tone of his voice and his words felt like he saying them specifically to me. And his words sounded just like Jack’s.

Suddenly I heard footsteps at the door and I swiftly closed my laptop, cutting the sound. Jack then walked in, hair dampened and sweat glistening on his arms and face. He walked over to his bed and grabbed a towel to wipe off his face before lying on his bed. I could hear him groan, seemingly out of exhaustion as he left the towel lying over his face.

As Jack lied there, my eyes slid down until they rested on his boots. Inside were the sure-to-be-sweaty assailants from the previous week. Taking quiet but deep breaths, I could faintly smell some of his stench from here. I quickly turned around and buried my face in a hand. What the hell do I care about his feet for? How does that make him a man? Despite these questions, the words of the faceless man in the video echoed in my head, telling me that I was a faggot, that Jack was a real man, and that I was meant to serve a real man like him. Abruptly, I stood up and walked out of the room to take a shower and cool off.

While I was in the shower, I tried let the cool water calm me down and I tried to think through things rationally. I hated that something was going on with me, but clearly something was. The words I’d heard from Jack did something that day, and being forced to breathe in his ripe body odor had some sort of effect on me. I suppose… that was undeniable. I just had to play it cool, pretend like nothing happened, and maybe I could explore whatever this was with someone more safe. Jack… it was terrifying to think about what he’d do if he found out. That scene from the video flashed across my mind, only this time the feet in frame were Jack’s. If he found out that’d likely be my reality. Put down beneath his feet… Hearing those words, every day… That I was just his faggot and I lived to serve a real man like him…

I shook my head trying to break out of my stupor. There certainly was something about Jack and his feet. Maybe because he started all this. Maybe I could take quick whiffs of his boots while he was out or something, maybe see if that second time was just a fluke. But no matter how much that scene that just flashed through my eyes made my dick flood with blood, I couldn’t give in to that. I had to listen to reason. Who knows where that would lead me…

After washing off and finally wrapping up, I stepped out of the shower, dried off, and dressed myself before walking back to my room. As I stepped inside, Jack was still on his bed, although he was now sitting upright with a bare foot crossed over one of his legs. As I put my dirty clothes away, Jack spoke up, “Oof, perfect time, Quent. I’ve been having a problem, and need your help.” Although none of his words were necessarily scary, Jack had his usual confident grin on his face. A grin of control. A grin of power. The kind of grin a real man would have when he knows he can get what he wants.

I gulped and nodded along, “Yeah, what’s up?”

“I was working out earlier with some of the guys. You know, Vince, Keith, and Corey. Anyway, I think there must have been something in my shoe, I got like a stabbing sensation in my foot,” he grimaced as he wiggled some of his toes, my eyes instantly dropping to watch his toes slide against one another. “Thing is, I don’t see anything there, but I don’t know, I still feel the pain here. You think you can take a look?”

I’d sat on my bed while he spoke and felt a lump in my throat as he made the inquiry. Holy fucking shit, Jack was asking me to take a look at his foot… There was no fucking way that he knew what had been going through my head, was there? In an instant, I tried to process what the fuck I should do. On the one hand, it was fucking crazy to just do what he said and willingly go close to his feet like this. But on the other, he was stronger than me and could force me to do whatever he wanted. I could feel reason slipping from my hands though. This was the perfect opportunity in a way; I could get close to the source of my curiosity and really see whether being by his bare foot again caused the same effect. I had always been a bit of a nerd and in trying to process this I suppose I was trying to break it down scientifically. If I approached his foot and felt the same dizzying effect, felt the same haze as the first time and like when I watched that video, then it meant… well I’m not sure what it meant, but I could figure that out.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I let go of my earlier reasoning and decided this opportunity was too good to pass up, “Yeah, uh, sure. I can take a look.”

“Hah, nice. Knew you’d do it. Now c’mere.”

I got up and slowly ambled toward him before looking down at his right foot and deciding that I had to get down, it only made sense. After gently lowering myself to the ground, Jack then turned his foot to face me, “So do you see anything?”

Sitting so close to Jack’s big, wide foot, I suddenly felt the pressure of the situation start to sink in. It was hard to focus, and I tried my best to keep bullsitting my way through this interaction. “It’s, uh, hard to tell.” I tried to appear like I was looking at his foot from various angles. It really was hard to see anything as my eyes tried to take it all in. The huge vastness of his soles. The cheesy aroma emanating from them was stronger, but still less intense from this distance. It was different than last time. To… to get a better idea, I had to get closer. “Here… let me get a better look.”

My hands slowly reached up and grabbed Jack’s large foot, my hands slightly sliding against the still slick surface. Surprisingly, he let me just take his foot into my hands as I lifted it and stretched it out, drawing it closer to my face. There, I thought, that’s much closer, that’s juuuust about… it. All at once, I was struck over the head by the intense stench. It was just like before. It was almost… commanding. Demanding to be noticed. My eyes had started to kaleidoscope once again before I used all my willpower to bring them back in to gaze over the sole stretching before me. I tried my best to take quiet, deep breaths as that familiar scent enveloped me. It was warm and suffocating. Intoxicating in its own way.

I looked back over his foot, scanning the whole surface from heel to toes. There were a few rough spots, a testament to how much he worked out, how strong he was… a real man, but overall it was still relatively smooth and pink. I looked for anywhere there might be something pressing into his foot, causing him pain. As I held the foot close to my face, one of my thumbs naturally drifted onto the arch and pressed into the sweaty, meaty surface, kneading it. I didn’t realize I was even doing it until Jack let out a light groan.

“Oh, s-sorry, did that hurt?”

Jack had a strange expression on his face initially, not confusion like I’d expect, but an intense look in his eye that felt like he was staring through me. Then he knit his brow while listening to my apology, and grunted, “Yeah… A little. That’s why I told you to look at my foot… Did you forget that I said it hurt?”

“Oh, uh…” I quickly tried to save face and come up with the best lie that I could. “No, I was, uh, trying to see where your foot might hurt…”

“Oh, heh, well then keep that up, I’ll tell you if it hurts anywhere too bad. Otherwise just keep rubbing around like that, ‘kay?”

I let out a sigh of relief that it seemed I’d managed to get off the hook, “Yeah, of course…” This time intentionally, I let my thumbs wander back onto the surface of his sole. I thumbed around the arches, noticing tension built up from the days exertion since we joined. I firmly pressed in and guided the knots outs.

After working along his arches for a minute, I drifted up toward the ball of his foot and under his toes. There were a few roughs spots here, though the accumulation of sweat helped me to more easily knead out the pressure. I then gently massaged each of his toes before coming down to his heel.

All while I did this, I held his foot less than a few inches from my face. My head pounded from the raunchy odor, but I couldn’t stop myself from breathing it in. It was like an oxymoron. It stank so I kept breathing it in. I couldn’t stop breathing in his feet, the smell of a real man. It was repulsive, but I couldn’t help from wanting more. This is my place… right? Just like that man said— underneath his feet. Even as my face slightly contorted unconsciously from the odor, I couldn’t stop myself.

“What about the other one?” I asked almost zombielike and thoughtlessly.

“What about the other one?” Jack questioned, moving his foot from my view and managing to pull me from the atmosphere of his foot. He looked down with a mixture of confusion and disgust.

“I thought I might do the other one.” I continued, still slightly entranced.

Jack paused for a moment, then continued his interrogation. “Why the fuck would I want that? I said this was the foot that hurt, weren’t you trying to figure out where it hurt?” His voice had changed slightly. It became more assertive, almost arrogant. Like he was testing me. It helped to snap me out of the spell.

“I, uh, yeah, I was…” I mumbled, now clearly embarrassed at my thoughtlessness.

“Didn’t seem like you were really paying attention to whether it hurt or not either,” Jack scoffed. My face burned bright red at being caught in that lie. I had no idea how to save this other than by saying the very things that could bury my hole deeper. But they were all I had.

“Oh, I— I was… yeah, it seemed to really hurt around the arch. It felt like there was a knot there. That’s why I really focused there at the start.”

“Huh, I mean, I didn’t ask you to rub my nasty foot, I just wanted you to see if there was something in it, like a splinter or something. Honestly, rubbing it could have just made it worse.”

With every word he spoke I felt my heart sink further and further into my stomach. “S-sorry… I… I just wanted to help…”

“Oho,” Jack grunted contempt, “so you wanted to rub my sweaty feet then?” I don’t think my face could turn any redder than it possibly already was. I had no idea what to say anymore, so I just stayed quiet. “Ugh, jesus, you don’t need to pout. I get that you’re a fag, but it’s not like you like my feet or something, right?” Jack raised his right foot back to my face and wiggled his toes as he spoke. My heart which initially felt like it stopped hearing those words now went into overdrive being re-engulfed in that heady, sweaty scent. “Fine, you can keep rubbing,” he relented, lifting his other foot and prying off his other boot and sock. As he slowly stretched his other leg out and his second foot increased the intensity of his foot stink, something truly snapped back into place.

Without hesitation, I raised my hands again and worked on his left foot now as he dropped the right foot to rest on my shoulder. I continued to massage his left foot for quite a while, making sure I rubbed every inch, before he then pried it from my hands. Before I could react, Jack then pushed his right foot back into my face. Instinctively, I got back to work on that foot like I thought he wanted.

I’m not sure how much time passed, but after a while Jack sighed, “All right, faggot, you can kiss my feet goodbye or whatever because I’m fucking starving.” If he hadn’t pulled his foot from my hands when he did I might have actually kissed his foot. Instead, he slipped on some slides and jumped up as I crawled back over to my bed, coming down from the high of his feet. Without saying another word, he sauntered out of the room and left me alone.

I waited a few seconds but after that I practically lost control. I grabbed his still wet, sweaty socks and rushed over to my computer. I opened it back up and realized I must have closed the tab after before he came in, probably some fast thinking on my part to make sure he didn’t see anything, and I re-opened my browser looking for the same video. After a few seconds I’d found it and clicked play once again. As I listened to that voice tell me what a good faggot I was lying beneath his feet, feet that looked close enough to Jack’s, I held Jack’s damp socks to my face and took a deep inhale. Within seconds of pulling out and stroking my cock, I shot load after load onto my stomach.

As I pulled the sock away, a clear grimace on my face, I shuddered at what I’d just done. After cleaning my cock, I quickly rose up and tried to put his socks back where they’d been. I felt almost frozen with dread before all the regret and disgust came crashing back down. I ran out to the bathroom and dropped to the floor in front of a toilet, dry heaving. What the fuck did I just do? That question spun around in my head as images of Jack’s sweaty feet flashed before my eyes. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on my breathing to prevent myself from throwing up, but all I could see where the expansive soles of Jack’s feet. So close… so ripe.

I stayed on the ground for about 10 minutes before my stomach settled and I wobbled my way back to my room. I quietly crawled back into my bed and pulled the covers over my head like I’d done so many times recently. I squeezed my eyes shut for as long as it took until sleep finally took me. While I did, my hands rested close to my face and I continued to breathe in the stink that clung to them. Too tired to get back up, I eventually fell asleep feeling as though I was still surrounded by Jack’s feet.

-

-

-

Hope you all enjoyed! A fellow footsub @footsockboy wanted me to write an army foot worship story, and I did my best to do so! This is definitely another story where I could see myself adding to it in the future, so let me know if you all enjoyed it!

-

Hello! I appreciate you asking this! I was contemplating whether I should make a post. I am still working on stories, life has just been very, very busy. Between work and changes in my personal life (like moving) it’s just been hard to find a long period of time to work on my next story. I do have one in the works though, and I have a good idea of the direction that I’m wanting to go with it. So now I just need the time!

In terms of more one-sided polls, definitely seemed like you all prefer longer stories with multiple parts. There were quite a few who voted for varied posts on both fronts, but I’ll keep in mind that for most stories, people want them longer and in multiple parts, and to save shorter stories for every now and then.

This is all super helpful to know. I definitely may explore outside of just what people voted for, *and* I will probably stick within those preferences more often. So you may get a story every now and then where the jock is more submissive or where a boss is submissive and so on, but I’ve seen what you guys prefer and I want to cater to that! Think of stories outside the preferences highlighted in the polls as those that help refresh my own creativity. Anything that leans outside of it helps me to be more focused and creatively inclined when I write the stories you guys prefer.

Subjugated by Master Christian 2

I sat kneeling there for several minutes after Chris walked out of the door. The scent of his feet still thick on my face and the sweat of his toes still marred on my taste buds. Slowly, I got up and walked toward the door, grabbing my keys on the way. Strangely, as this all played out it felt akin to when Chris took control. I watched my body move, feeling as though I myself had very little control over it.

I left the apartment and walked down the hall to the garage door. Step-by-step making my way to my car. After sliding into it, I put the key into the ignition and finally stopped. I could feel my heart beat racing and began to feel what my body was feeling. It took me a second, but I realized I was hyperventilating.

You have to slow down your breathing. You have to calm down. I tried to tell myself over and over through the course of a good 10 minutes. I stared down at my hands during this time while flashes of my hands working over Christian’s feet passed through my mind. It was like they were all I could see, and even feel and… smell.

I tightly shut my eyes and the images grew stronger. For a brief moment it felt like I was back in that time. Below Him. Rubbing one foot while the other invaded my mouth. I saw Chris staring down at me, the widest grin spread across his face. I could hear his laugh and sighs of contentment. My eyes rolled back listening from this culmination of stimuli. As I sucked on his massive, juicy, stinking big toe, he coaxed my efforts… a level of motivation to obey.

“Keep licking like a good little dog and you’ll get your bone.” Chris cooed. I could hear my moans swallowed beneath him. Slowly, he unzipped his jeans and right has the cock head started to slip out my eyes shot open.

I caught my breath as I calmed myself. That wasn’t real, none of that happened. None of that has happened… But deep, deep in my subconsciousness, an unspoken part cried out. And though it was wordless, my conscious mind acknowledged it and suddenly dreaded words were put to feeling. That hasn’t happened yet… But it could… I could suck his dick. I just have to worship his feet. I just have to obey him.

Shaking, trying to stop myself from lingering on those thoughts, I glanced at the clock in my car. 50 minutes had passed. It was now getting pretty late.

I didn’t know what the hell to do. My hand felt like putty as it tried to grasp the car key and turn it. But what would leaving do? I would lose everything… And Chris could just find me again. I don’t know how, but I couldn’t unsee him showing up one day and trapping me. Somehow, somewhere, deep in my heart it felt like a fact that if I tried to escape he would find me no matter what. Resistance felt futile.

And what was I resisting? A foot fetish? I mean, yes, I was being forced to worship Christian's feet. But like I thought earlier, he at least wasn’t forcing me to hurt anyone, or using whatever these powers were to hurt me or make me hurt myself. Worshipping his feet wasn’t hurting me… It wasn’t even necessarily unenjoyable, as much as that pained me to think, and it could mean I get something I’d want. I just wished this was all easier… I just wish...

“He could just…” I spoke aloud, my voice quivering in terror from the idea attempting to escape its grasp. He could just… make me like his feet. If Chris just wanted a guy to play with his feet, he could just make me fall in love with his feet. This thought was terrifying, but also… it was silently comforting.

If Chris just made me like his feet, I’d forget the disgust. I’d stop resisting. In fact, he’d have me all over his feet, wouldn’t he? Then this would all be so much easier. I’d just love his feet. I'd want to worship them, and then he’d reward me with his dick which I’m sure I’d also love.

Chris could have me wrapped around his finger… or toe, in this case... if he just forced me to like his feet. Though I knew that was crazy to think and find comfort in, my exhausted brain really only thought about one thing: what would make all the anxiety and fear stop.

It wouldn’t be running away from Chris. Then it’d never end. I’d always be afraid and watching my back. No... but if I liked his feet, if I wanted to worship them, then the source of the anxiety would go away. I was afraid of being controlled by Christian and forced to do things I didn’t like. Running away wouldn’t get rid of that possibility. But it was precisely BY being controlled by him, that I would lose that fear… Instead I’d enjoy being controlled by him; enjoy doing everything he wants me to do… Then I wouldn’t be afraid. Then I’d be… free.

With wobbling legs, I slowly exited my car and made my way back to the apartment. I didn’t really know what the hell my plan was, but I started by taking a few filets out and getting ready to cook that dinner Christian asked for.

-

I sat down next to Chris, quietly eating the meal I’d cooked. He’d been playful coming back and seeing me doing as he’d told. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought for a moment that he looked almost like he’d been pleasantly surprised. But then I remembered that feeling I had earlier. The certainty that no matter what I’d be back under him, and I abandoned any consideration that he was anything but assured I’d do what he wanted.

Still, as I sat next to Chris, he felt so imposing. The thoughts about him taking control, reshaping me into what he wanted, echoed through my mind. As it did, it continued to be met with a feeling of freedom that’d be associated with that.

“Damn, bro,” Chris finally spoke, breaking the silence that had settled since his initial comments after coming back. “This shit’s really fucking good!"

“Th-thanks…” I mumbled out after a brief pause.

“Fuck, dude, remind me again why we don’t have you cooking all the time?” Chris continued to compliment me.

“I’ve just been so busy and tired… I do really like cooking though.” It was true. Cooking was never something I had minded when I lived alone. Though I did usually enjoy making food for others more than making it for myself. This was one of those times where I wasn’t as sure whether I enjoyed making it for someone else more.

“We gotta figure that out then, man! I need this shit everyday!” Chris laughed, “What’s so stressful about your job?"

I answered and told Chris how it was a lot of work compared to what I was used to. Especially with the training which still had another week or so left. It was weird opening up to him, but he was strangely validating and compassionate as he listened. For a moment I forgot about how scared I was of him. This just felt nice. In a way, it felt like I was talking to a boyfriend. And as that moment ended, and all the recollection of what happened came flooding back. The worst part was in one single thought: I wouldn’t mind worshipping his feet so much when he acts like this.

My breath caught in my throat. Just what the hell was going on?! How… how could I be okay with this? But how… how could I escape from this? The parts of me that held those dangerous thoughts… were they really just the parts of me that were first to accept the reality of this situation? Were the other parts, the resistant parts, were they actually in the wrong here? Were these parts really just in denial of the truth?

I tried my best to unpack these thoughts, and specifically try to rationalize continuing to resist, but the low hum of Christian’s deep voice kept my mind firmly in the moment.

“Man, I’m tired too, though. That last workout was pretty brutal,” Chris sighed as he stretched his arms. “Why don't you put away dishes for us?"

Wordlessly, I rose from the couch and did as he said. Anything to get away from him. I silently, cleaned the plates and utensils, tucking them away in the opened dish washer. After I was done, I placed my arms strethced against the sink and hung my head. I need a game plan here, I thought. I need to figure out what the hell I’m going to do.

However, despite my pleas for silence and space, I heard Chris’s voice call out from another room, ordering me to come over. I knew I didn’t want to go, but I’d made this choice. I came back into this damn apartment. If I thought leaving before would have been a challenge, I’d made it infinitely harder in this moment. So I begrudgingly walked over and after stopping in front of his room, my mouth fell agape.

There in front of me was Chris, naked below the waste, with a prominent, sizable dick standing at attention. “Well, are you just gonna stand there, or you gonna come in and get this reward?” He smirked sexily. My head emptied of all thought and I walked over and dropped to my knees. Chris grabbed the back of my head gently and pulled it toward his dick. “Fuuuuck yeah, boy,” he moaned as my drooling mouth closed around his hefty tool. “You’ve been such a good boy. You deserve a little treat, huh? Yeah, keep making me feel good. You’re gonna keep making me happy, right?"

I whimpered out assent and looked up hungrily, gazing into his warm brown eyes. Everything had changed. The sweet scent of his sweaty cock was like the ultimate aphrodisiac to me. It was deep, full, and inviting. I could lose myself in his perfect cock.

“That’s it, work that thick fucking load out. I’m gonna fucking coat your mouth.” The dirty talk only served to make me more horny, and hungrier for Chris's cock. I dove in, taking the entire tool down my throat. It felt incredible, my throat being forcefully expanding by his massive tool. He hiked a leg up, pinning my neck between his crotch, thigh, and calf and proceeded to throat fuck me.

It was rougher than I may have usually enjoyed, but there was something about Christian’s cock that drove me wild. The shape, the salty flavor, the mixture of scents. There was something in the air that made me quiver in excitement.

Eventually Chris relented and stood up, withdrawing his dick from my mouth causing drool to spill from it still stringing to my wet lips. “Get on the bed.” He ordered. I obediently crawled on the bed and spun around. After getting on top, he unbuttoned my pants and in one swift motion ripped them and my underwear from my legs. “Look how fucking hard you are for my cock,” he teased as he pushed my back against the frame and mounted my face. “You fucking love my cock don't you, boy?” My lips naturally parted for the delicious invader and I once again moaned in assent to his question. “Fuck yeah, that’s a good fleshlight. Open that throat for my fat cock. Fuuuuuuck.”

Christian bean to hypnotically thrust his hips as his dick slid in and out of my mouth freely. His balls slapped my chin and my nose repeatedly shoved into his thick bush. My hands slid up the back of his thighs until they reached his lower back and desperately gripped the firm muscle, begging for more. More cock. More service. More domination. In this moment it felt like I needed Chris. I would do anything for him. Anything to get his delicious cock back in my mouth.

Heaving above me, Chris panted, “Shit… I’m getting close. You want this load? You want that mouth fucking painted?"

“MMPHH MMPHMMM!!!” I tried to answer unsuccessfully with my mouth and throat completely filled.

“Yeah you do,” he huffed, “yeah, you fucking do. Now swallow it, bitch!” Chris roared above me as he withdrew his dick just enough that it hung just on the tip of my tongue when the cockhead swelled and exploded inside.

It was ecstasy. Feeling Chris shoot his thick load into my mouth, all I could think about is how glad I am that I stayed. His cum was mostly salty, yet sweet, with just a hint of that usual bitter flavor. I’d never tasted anything like it. I needed more. I was so horny I swear I could cum without touching my cock… and yet I didn’t. Couldn’t. I reached down and furiously jerked myself off. But as time ticked by, his cock shrinking in my mouth, I continued to feel euphoric but just couldn’t finish.

After a minute, I began worrying that I’d upset Chris or he’d just leave, bored after I failed to climax with him. But instead, as I looked up at him, he appeared to have an epiphany and smirked down at me.

“Don’t worry, bud, I know what you need.” Chris chuckled, sitting down and lifting his large feet into the air above my face. I was spent and tired, and looking for any excuse as to why this would be okay. But how I could be okay cumming to this? As I failed to find any excuse, his sweaty feet pressed into my face. Instinctively, my tongue slid out, wiping itself along the dried sweat clinging to his soles. Between sucking his dick, my aching cock, and my mouth all over his feet, everything began jumbling together. An explosion of flavor spread across my taste buds as my tongue traced the wrinkles of his feet and weaved between his toes. My cock strained further in my hands, but didn’t release. With each inhale of the cheesy ripe odor, I felt more and more blood pump into my dick. Still, it didn’t release.

It felt so good, it almost wrapped around to hurting. I NEEDED to unload. I kissed and tongued and sucked on every part of Christian's feet, each act bringing me closer and closer. But I hung just on the edge. “P-please…” I whimpered, “pleaaasseee…"

“Yeah, you need to cum real bad, don’t you,” Chris teased me, grinding his feet further into my face. Lost in the moment, I followed suit, trying to bury myself as deep beneath his soles as I could go. I was a whimpering, moaning mess, and Christian was enjoying every moment of it. “You need this? You need my feet? Tell me you need fucking need them, boy."

“I…” I huffed, inhaling deeper and deeper, “I need them, Chris. I fucking need them. Please let me cum to you feet, please…” I was begging, pleading. And my pleas were answered.

“That’s a good fucking boy. Then cum to them. You have permission. Cum. Now.” As soon as he finished speaking, I felt my shoulders drop and a wave of ease wash over me as I erupted a torrent of cum.

“Th-th-thank you…” I moaned as shot after shot left my dick. I continued to relish the sensation of the climax, inhaling his heady foot funk. His fat, sweaty toes worming their way into my open mouth as I spoke. Naturally, my lips closed around them and my tongue explored his toes in the familiar way it had come to find them.

“Ouff” Chris heavily sighed, “This never stops feeling good, huh? Haha, you keep worshipping these feet and you're gonna get me all bricked up again.” Though there was visible reluctance to do so, he gently pulled his toes from my mouth and stood up. Somehow, someway, an unshakable frown formed on my face. If… if it meant getting to play with his cock again, I would have gladly kept sucking on his toes. “Aaaalllll right,” Chris yawned, stretching his arms and back. “I always get so tired after getting off…”

I glanced over at him longingly, not wanting this to end, but after I moment I took the hint. I rose up, grabbing the pants and underwear I’d shucked off. “Yeah, uh, me too…” I lied as I hurried to the door.

“That was a lot of fun though.” I stopped outside his door and turned around. “Doesn’t just have to be a one time thing.” He winked as he stepped toward me. Standing in front of me, he smirked knowingly before closing the door. I continued to stand there for a moment before walking to my room quietly.

I fell into my bed and lied on top restless for a while. All on my own with nothing but my thoughts, the same doubts and fears came creeping back. Was I really okay with this? I had felt so confident and so willing 30 minutes ago to do anything for Chris to let me fool around with his dick again. I was acting depraved and perverted in a way that I never had before. At least not to this extent. Good dick was good dick, but to be willing to throw myself down to his feet for it? …Yet, bubbling beneath these stewing thoughts of doubt toward my actions were simple, indisputable facts. Facts that threatened to force their way into my consciousness. That had forced their way into my consciousness: servicing his feet was not unenjoyable for me. I… I had cum from it, and cum fucking hard. In that moment I sought something outside of enjoyment to validate worshipping his feet. Nothing else came.

I squeezed my eyes tight, and when I opened them again I stood up from my bed. I walked around the apartment turning all the lights off. As I navigated back to my room, I could still see the light on in Christian’s room. Hearing him shuffle around, I sighed and walked back to my bed, shutting the door on the way. I don’t know what I expected. I don’t know what I wanted. Even now, sprawled across my bed, I could still feel the willingness to do anything for Chris radiating deep within me. Did he do this to me? Did he somehow make me enjoy his feet? He didn’t give a command like the other times though. I had struggled to finish and all he said was that he knew what I needed. He never gave an order that would prevent me from finishing without worshipping his feet. I… just couldn’t. Not until they covered my face. Not until they were in my mouth.

-

I woke up the next mornning groggy and fatigued. The taste of Christian’s cum still vaguely coating my tongue. I checked my phone and saw it was 8:02 in the morning. I groaned, still plagued by the worries from last night. “Why couldn’t this all be simpler…” I groaned out quietly. I put a hand to my forehead and huffed out a sigh. Still so tired, but awake enough that I knew I couldn’t go back to sleep. Great. Reluctantly, I rolled out of bed and wobbled my way into the kitchen.

I started making my breakfast and a few minutes after I heard Christian open his door and walk out. “Damn,” he breathed in the smell of the bacon and eggs I was cooking. “You’re makin’ some for me right?” He smiled, lazily leaning back against the counter. I don’t know if it’s because I saw it in my periphery or if my eyes just naturally wandered down there, but they widened when they saw the head of his dick and a few inches of the shaft hanging out the bottom of his short boxers.

“Oh shit,” he laughed, “Guess, my big guy wanted to say hi, huh?” Instantly my mind was transported to last night, the feeling of his thick cock stretching open my mouth and throat. The taste of his fresh, warm cum flooding me. Despite his reaction, he didn’t move to hide his dick. Willfully, I pulled my eyes back up as Chris walked over and grabbed some of the bacon out of the pile I’d finished. “Nice, just how I like ‘em! Mind finishing mine first? I got a client in a few so I can’t hang around long."

“Oh, sure.” I agreed, still thinking about the snake hanging out.

Chris walked past to head to the couch, gently squeezing my abdomen on the way over. “Awesome. You always take good care of me, Alex. That’s my favorite thing about you, y’know?"

Apparently not expecting a response, Chris immediately turned on the TV as he finished speaking and put his hands behind his head. Despite everything, I felt a little joy hearing his words. His praise. So I went along with what he said. And when I finished, he complimented my cooking yet again, and still there was something different about hearing it today. Something that made my heart quiver.

It wasn’t until Chris left and I was alone, that the doubt began to flood my mind once more. But it was useless. No matter how many times these thoughts flipped around in my head, the end result was the same. I was worried what Christian would do if I tried to run away, and I wished he could just erase all my concerns.

Instead of trying to fight my thoughts, I just let them win. I told myself if that’s what would solve this problem, then that’s what would solve this problem. After settling my thoughts I found it much easier to take my mind off of those worried and focus on my work.

Before I knew it the day was over and Chris was striding back into the apartment as I closed my work computer. “Fuck, that was a rough one.” He huffed, “I could really go for another foot rub.” Sighing, though much less willful this time, I walked over to the couch and kneeled before it. Untying his shoes and prying them off, I was met with his bare feet. “Already feels so much better just seeing you down there,” he smiled. “You’re gonna make me feel good, right?"

“Y-yeah,” I looked up and met Chris’ eyes as my hands pressed into the soft, warm flesh. Once again something in my heart fluttered hearing the subtle praise in his question.

“Atta boy,” Chris smirked down at me before turning on the TV and turning his attention up toward it.

-

For two weeks, we continued this dance. With each passing day it grew more and more natural. I attended to Christian's needs without thinking. He'd walk in to find me beginning to kneel before the couch. At first I was just massaging his feet. Then about a week ago he commented how they still felt hot and sticky after one of his training sessions. He asked me to help him with that and… I’m not sure why, I guess because I’d already done it before, but without considering anything else I pressed my face close to his soles and began lapping at them. After that, it became routine that I’d lick his feet every afternoon as well.

Every few days he’d call me in to his room and let me blow him as a reward for taking care of his needs, and each time I somehow anticipated it more. The second time I got to suck him off, he intentionally got me off again. Like last time, it wasn’t until I’d thoroughly worshipped his feet and heard him tell me that I could cum that I actually found I could finish. And just like the last time, he basically kicked me out afterward.

But since then, whenever he’s had me come in to service his dick, he’s let me stay after he finished! He hasn’t gotten me off in the same way, but he says that I can stay if I give him more foot service. I was hesitant, initially. However, I haven’t been able to get off other than the two days he let me cum. I worry that he’s somehow changed that part of me. Maybe he’d used whatever powers he had to make me not be able to cum unless it was to his feet. As if reading my mind, he then said I could jerk off while I serviced his feet as long as it didn’t impact my capabilities. Desperate and horny, that felt fair enough… although I’ve been so focused on making sure it doesn’t impact his foot rubs that I still haven’t gotten off since last week.

My horniness wasn’t the only thing building up over all this time though. When he came in today, I had already been sitting down in front of the couch for a few minutes waiting for him to come in. As he sauntered over, he commented on how his feet really hurt and he just needed to put them up for a bit. He said the coffee table was a little too hard though. Without thinking, I moved to my hands and knees and offered my back.

The strangest part was he asked me if I was sure. He… gave me an out. But… I insisted. I told him I wanted to. After all, that would have been what he wanted right? If I didn’t offer it, he would have just made me, right?

All this time, I was doing what he wanted because I knew he had the power to make me do it. He had control. In a way, it was the only way I could resist him. To resist his control. By going along with it to prevent him from totally controlling me. But as I kneeled there, I finally wondered to myself why I was even bothering to avoid him taking control when I was just doing what he wanted anyway. It would be so much easier just to listen to Christian. He would always win. So why fight him anymore? I could just...

He removed his heavy heels from my back. “Rub,” He said simply. I gently placed my hands over his feet, feeling the slight stick as his warm sweat transferred to my skin and I began to palm the soles. We sat in silence for a while. Him just enjoying the service while I continued to come to terms with the decision I was about to make.

After about ten minutes, he spoke up.

“You seem tired today.”

“Oh… I’m sorry…”

“What’s on your mind, Alex?”

I paused, I still wasn’t sure I had a full grasp of Chris’ motives or what he would or wouldn’t do with this power. But quickly thinking over everything that’s happened so far, including him even indulging me in my clear attraction to him… I decided despite how strange or awful this situation was— still would be for others— I’d open up some.

“I just wish this was easier. I feel so conflicted. Maybe it sounds like Stockholm syndrome, but I just wish you’d order me to love your feet and make this easy.”

“Order you to love my feet?” Chris suddenly burst out laughing. I looked away, though my hands never stopped massaging. “What have you been doing this past week if not loving my feet? I mean you’ve massaged them for hours by now, huffed them when they’re at their funkiest, licked ‘em, and hell, speaking of taking deep whiffs when they reeked, you said that’s the only way you can cum now!” As he recounted everything my face burned bright red, though my gaze slowly began to drift back to his feet. But… he… he had this power over me… That was the only reason, right?

“Please…” I squeaked out, “I don’t care how pathetic it sounds. I’m just so tired of being confused, of fighting back. Just tell me I love your feet. Tell me I want to be your foot slave, that nothing would make me happier. Command me that that’s my place in this world. That I’m happiest working away for you and coming back to get to worship your feet. If you just say those words then there won’t be any fight, there won’t be any confusion.”

Though I still couldn’t find the strength to look him in the eyes, I could feel his glare boring into me after my request.

“You heard yourself say all that, and you need me to tell you that you want it?”

I wanted to bury my face down in between his soles and hide from the truth, but he made it so glaringly obvious. And yet, I still couldn’t be satisfied without hearing it from him.

“Please…” I quietly pleaded. Finally dragging my eyes up from the huge plains of soles that stretched before me up to his face, looking into his deep eyes. The eyes of a man stronger than me. A man who had broken me and won.

He sighed, but despite his feigned exasperation, the smallest hint of a smile, undetectable to me, appeared on his face.

“Fine. You, Alex, love my feet. They’re all you need in this world. You want to worship them. Every day. You can’t get enough of my feet, and the sweatier, the smellier, the better. You’re pathetic and know that. You know you belong beneath these feet, and you know that now you will never get out from underneath them. It’s not enough to be my foot slave, you’re practically married to them. You will do anything to make them— me— happy. That’s all you will ever want from now on.”

Just like that soft tears began sliding down my cheek as I kissed his feet over and over again, thanking him. I didn’t have any objections, and resistance anymore. As soon as he said that, I knew it was the undeniable truth. I knew there was no going back, and as the anxiety and worries and cares left my mind, so too did any regret over this decision. I couldn’t regret it. He had ordered me to feel this way. So of course, that denial and tension would abate. I did love his feet. All I ever wanted was to be able to be underneath him and worship him. I had thought it before: he was like a God. I suppose now he was my God.

“Thank you, sir.” I squeaked out. Then louder. “Thank you... Master." I gently kissed his feet subserviently. Finally happy. So happy to be beneath them.

Christian laughed. Laughed knowing he did have power. He’d always had a way with words, or something about his energy. He could make people do whatever he wanted if he just… exerted himself in a certain way. And this started out that way. He had a day of fun with his new roomie. But something was different… Off. Normally when he made someone do something entirely outside of their usual behavior, they had some form of resistance, and he had to wipe their memory after; that’s what he did with his last girlfriend until even that became too unruly. But with this boy... Alex went along with it. Not after days and weeks of being broken down. But after one time.

Chris knew he had something special in his lap at that point. He knew he had a fun, cute little plaything that he wouldn’t have to chore over controlling every second of the day. He had a boy who he genuinely broke and transformed. He noticed this within the first interaction with his little plaything, and yet even now he still rode on that high. That’s how he knew this was different than anything he’d ever had before. There’s a certain euphoria that comes from knowing you twisted someone into your perfect, obedient pet without any force. It was a high he knew would never go away. And it never did as he controlled this faggot for the rest of it’s life.

So now, as he took pleasure in knowing the power he had— all without using any actual power. He only had to use those powers a few times that first day, then it was enough to just wave his dick in the fags face, and all that struggle at the start fell into hush obedience. His roommate was just like a dog, in a way. But a cute dog nonetheless. And now he didn’t even need that conditioned reward. The faggot was hooked on his disgusting ripe feet! HAH!

So Christian sat back and enjoyed the fruits of his manipulation. And I was oblivious to it all. I misguidedly believed he controlled it the whole time, and willingly opened my own heart to be dominated and subjugated. I willingly handed over all freedom to my new Master and from that point on I became his unhesitatingly obedient foot fag.

I never failed him. I believed it was because I had been forced to, but really it was because I wanted to be obedient to Christian. I wanted to be a doormat and serve him. So that’s what I did. Every day for years and years. Until all my life had been spent serving him.

-

-

-

I hope you all enjoyed this second part! After writing much of the story, I did think that I could have elongated it and made it a slower burn, but I was unsure how you all would feel about that. Since I had already written so much, I decided I’d finish it in the way I intended, and then afterward create a poll to see what you guys are interested in! So if you see this first, either be on the lookout for the poll shortly or check out my page in case it’s already been posted.

I might put out a few different polls to gauge my audience’s interests on a few different things. This part of the story was also a lot more focused on the mental aspect and that relating to foot domination, then the actual domination, and I’m curious how people feel about that. I have quite a few works in progress, and how you guys answer the poll(s) will probably influence changes to those stories and what I make in the future. Mainly the length, whether there are multiple parts, the personalities of characters, what aspects I focus on, things like that. As always, I appreciate any feedback and love talking with fellow foot lovers!

Losing Everything Beneath Ted’s Feet

“Ugh, today was just so exhausting, I think I need a break, man.” I sighed, walking next to the couch.

My sincere declaration was met with the deep, boisterous laughter of my roommate, Ted. “Naw man, you’re just pussin’ out ‘cause you know you’re about to get fucking tanked dude!”

Scoffing, I shrugged off his accusation. “I win like nine times out of ten! I don’t even think you believe that!”

“There’s something in the air, dude. I was feeling it at work today. It was like I could lift anything I needed to without any struggle. I just know I’m gonna do the same to you… if you don’t puss out that is.” His voice was stern and strong. Defiant to all resistance.

“We game like all the time,” I tried to reason, “why does it have to be tonight? We can just do this tomorrow, right?”

“Naw, man,” he shook his head. “I wanna run on this high. How ‘bout we make this interesting. I know you didn’t hang out with the guys in college, but we have a lot of ways of making games more interesting. We’ll change it up, make it more fun. Something worthwhile for you.”

“Ignoring whatever that jab was…” I rolled my eyes, “What are some of these ideas?”

“We could bet money, though that’s always the most boring option.”

“Dude, we barely make enough to have any sort of fun money. What else is there.” “Good, I didn’t want to do that shit either,” he agreed. “We’d also make bets where the loser had to do whatever the winner said.” He started howling to himself. “There was one time where a friend of ours, Eli, kept fucking losing! Hahaha, eventually Stan just got sick of it, and made a bet that if Eli lost he had to be his slave for a week. Fuck, dude! Eli’s face when he fucking lost, and lost hard. It was fucking hilarious.” He paused for a moment and then made a face like he had an epiphany before chuckling to himself.

“Dude, what?” I inquired, quizzically staring at him losing it all on his own.

“I forgot, Eli came out a few years after we all graduated. Fuck… you know… he probably fucking lost that shit on purpose! I heard some of the sick shit Stan made him do that week… it makes sense he ended up being a fag—“ He stopped himself before he finished, looking at me sheepishly. “Heh, sorry man, I almost forgot myself for a minute. I know you don’t like hearing that word, ‘specially out of a straight man like me.”

I was taken aback by how Ted was just talking and could only slowly nod. Seeing that he wasn’t really reprimanded, he concluded, “You just should have seen it, man. If you were there, it would have made sense. If there was ever a time to use that word, looking back now, it was then!”

Nervously laughing, I just tried to move the conversation along. “Aaaanyway, let’s rule that out for now, any others?”

“Well, we also used to have the losers take shots. That was always funny since they’d just get worse and worse and end up wasted by the end. But you don’t drink, so that just leaves the last option.” He paused before a wicked grin spread across his face.

“What is it, man?” I leaned in expectantly.

He leaned forward in turn and I could feel his hot breath, thick with the scent of his beer spread across my face. “Strip betting. Loser takes off a piece of clothing. Keep going ‘till they’re naked… or more.” He had a shit eating grin with the last addition, a statement and a grin I didn’t understand in this moment.

“I don’t really know what you mean by more, but how does this entice me?”

“C’mon, bro. You don’t have to play coy. I know you’d probably love to see me strip off my clothes. ‘Specially after a long day, see the sweat glisten on this skin. Just try and tell me you’re not down for this shit.”

Now Ted was definitely a handsome guy. Really the embodiment of being a MAN, at least in the traditional sense. He had big everything. Big legs, big feet, big arms, a big belly. Yet you could tell underneath it all was this dense muscle. People would sometimes laugh seeing us as roommates considering the difference between us. I did try to workout, but mainly so I could have a big butt and eat a little treat every now and then. Compared to him, I was practically twink-ish despite not looking as thin or malnourished as many twinks do. But that’s just what happens when you have a hulking man standing beside you. And Ted’s features were all highlighted by a rugged, but clean and even, in some ways, cute face. He had a baby face that finally adultified and just became handsome and strong.

So, honestly, I couldn’t lie, thinking about seeing him naked wasn’t an unattractive proposition. But also, Ted was straight as a door nail. What would I really gain from getting this man to strip? An amplified undying lust for a man I could never have? Pass. I was getting ready to turn down the idea when he spoke back up.

“Spending an awfully long time thinking about it, huh, dude? It’s all right, I bet you’re just having to think about a good excuse for why you could turn me down when you know you wanna see this all exposed.”

I turned beet red and started stuttering trying to deny the accusation.

“Ah ah ah,” he tutted, “It’s all right, why don’t we just play a few games and you can see how much fun you’re having. After two or three rounds, if you still wanna call it quits, we can. Sound fair?”

Honestly, at this point I felt exhausted. Going along with what he wants just felt like the easier option.

“Sure,” I reasoned, “we can play a few rounds, see how it goes.”

With that shit eating grin returning to his face, he exclaimed in victory, “Atta boy! Hope you’re ready to taste defeat again and again!”

-

After putting my work things away, I came back into the living room and sat on the couch beside Ted. He had also recently come home and was still in his work clothes. As a construction worker, this meant he had on some thick jeans, heavy boots, and two layers of shirts, one long-sleeve undershirt and a thick zip up coat. I glanced over his attire and exclaimed, “Hey! That’s not fair. You have on more than me. You even still have on your boots! That’s gotta be cheating.”

“Heh, that’s just the way the game works, Lev, my boy. It’s whatever you’re wearing at the time. So don’t even think about going to put on more shit. ‘Sides, I had these boots on because as much as it’d feel better to have ‘em off, we were working hard today and it was a warm one for us. I was trying not to stink up the place too much.”

I looked down at his boots and shuddered. Ted and I moved in together toward the end of Fall and it was now starting to get to be late Spring and warming up. For the most part, he’d always commented how nice it was that we’d had such cold weather since it kept him cooled. But today had been pretty hot in comparison. The first day in the 60’s after months of anything barely above 40’s. Maybe he was doing us a favor…

But as I heard the upbeat music of the first game kick in, I turned my attention to the game and locked in. We played three different games: a kart racer, a fighting game, and a free-for-all game where you tried to survive being knocked out in mini games. As much as it’d be a little tedious switching between, we loved the change of pace and it helped us to never get bored.

I was better than Ted at almost all of them. The first two were easy to master through playing often, but the last involved too many unknowns with online players. That’s what made it almost more fun, but also the hardest to rely on. I felt confident though that I could make it out the winner even if he consistently won in the third game.

The discrepancy in our skill levels was only made more apparent once we actually started. As exhausted as I was, I was still able to maintain first for all of the races, while he sat comfortably in second, never really coming near me.

“See, Ted, I don’t really see how you think this is going to work in your favor.” I tried to reason with him once more.

Grunting, he just untied his laces and pried off a heavy boot. “There’s plenty of time left to come in from behind. Hehe, I’m often coming from behind if you know what I mean.” He snickered to himself as we switched to the fighting game.

I rolled my eyes as my nose twitched slightly. He wasn’t lying about keeping those boots on. That’s when I noticed he still had one of them on!

“Hey, don’t you need to take that other boot off!”

“Ahhh, see, it’s just one article of clothing, Lev. I took one off, didn’t I?”

Exasperated, I once again felt it would just be easier to let Ted have his way. Shaking my head, I turned back to the new game on the screen and selected my character.

“See, it’s all just easier, when you let ‘ol Ted lead and you follow. Now, I’m about to beat your pansy ass.” He laughed to himself.

Ted did not, in fact, beat my pansy ass. But… He came a lot closer than he has before.

“Damn! I really am better at this game today!” He exclaimed to himself as he began unlacing the second boot. With a loud thud, he dropped the other boot just like the first and kicked his socked feet up onto the ottoman.

We prepared to move on to the third game and as the game loaded us into the first round I noticed my nose felt like it was on fire. It took a second or two before I realized it was as if it was being pounded with a sweaty, stinky sledge hammer. I tried to hold my breath through my nose, but somehow that made it worse. It felt like I needed to breathe more, air it out more… except airing it out really only sucked in more of the dank air.

It wasn’t for a few second that I realized we’d started.

“Shit!” I exclaimed, as I rushed to try and catch up as many of the other players characters bounded across the screen ahead of me.

It was tough, but with much effort, I made it through the round and on to the next. Beside me, I heard Ted chuckling to himself about how far ahead he was and how it was time for me to be knocked down a peg.

I was determined to make it through, this would teach him a lesson and hopefully show him how dumb this was turning out to be. He was just going to end up naked in front of me!

As the round started and we had to stay alive to progress, that thought circled in my head. Ted was going to get naked in front of me. Would he really undress all the way? There was no way… right? Flashes of a thick, bushy cock at the base of his crotch flashed before my eyes and I had to squeeze them shut and open again to refocus.

I managed to just barely dodge something that threatened to knock me out, but as I jumped out of the way, I ran into a small group of other players and just as another object came flying past, someone grabbed me and together we were hit and sent off the edge, knocking us out.

“Dammit!” I yelled, excitedly. “Ugh,” I sighed as the realization of the loss hit me as Ted’s character progressed on, “I lost, fair and square.” I fessed up.

“Hell yeah you did. Now take off your shirt, bro. Loser strips.” 

I complied with his order and threw my shirt down before turning to him in confusion. “Wait, how come you get to tell me what to take off!”

Bellowing in laughter so hard, his character ended up getting knocked out and eliminated, he wiped away a tear before admitting, “I was just seeing if you’d do it. Besides… normaaaally we do let the winners decide what the losers will remove.”

Exasperated, I called him out, “You didn’t tell me that before!”

“HAH! So I bet you would have wanted to have me strip more than just my boots, huh? What, would you have told me to take my pants off? I knew you’d wanna see me naked! See pretty enticing game, huh?”

I fumbled my words trying to find some way to resist what he was saying. It wasn’t really that he was right per se. Sure, seeing Ted take his pants off would have been hot, but that wouldn’t have even been my first choice. I’d have probably said his jacket and then maybe his shirt.

“Whatever, man.” I pouted, unable to form the words properly to retort his argument. “Let’s just get back to the kart racer so I can beat your ass again.”

“We’ll see about that,” Ted taunted.

But I was locked in. After restarting the first game, I didn’t do amazingly, but I made sure to beat him every time, even if only just barely. Shit… was he getting better at this?

“So, I guess you want me to take off my pants now?” Ted sighed, but with a cocky grin on his face.

I took a second to speak before quietly demanding, “…Sock.”

“Huh? I didn’t quite catch that?” He snickered.

“Take off a sock. I’m not just gonna tell you to take your pants off!”

Giggling to himself like he’d won something, he followed through and removed his left sock, the foot closer to me. I was busy setting up the fighting game when he sneered and announced “Here’s your prize!” as he tossed the sock onto my face.

I felt the damp warm surface fall across my nose and mouth before I had time to react. Taken aback, I sharply inhaled through my nose and was assaulted by Ted’s dank foot sweat nearly from the source. Instantly I felt light-headed and slowly reached up to swipe it off my face. For a moment though, that burning sensation had stopped. Perhaps overwritten by all the other intense dysregulating scents defiling my nose. It was relief… but… but not in a good way, that couldn’t be good relief.

With the game now set up, my nose resumed twitching, itching and burning, almost more intensely now. Probably from his sock being removed. Fuck. What the hell did Ted do today?

It was a slight blur, but I selected my character and we started and I was trying to fight back, but it was much harder this time. Ted was getting so much better. We were basically even this time.

My only saving grace is that his attacks seemed sporadic and isolated. I tried my hardest to focus in just enough to plan a combo and with both of us on our last lives and close to being taken out, I sent him flying off the map.

Despite, this I felt unable to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Whooo! That was a close one, bud. You were putting up a good fight there, but I’ll for sure, have you next time.” He smirked, and playfully ran a finger across my exposed nipple sending electricity shooting through my cock.

With that it felt like I could finally take that deep inhale again as I shuddered from the sensation. Ted then crossed his right leg to face me and chuckled, “Other sock this time I take it?”

Despite my defiance and not wanting to seem like a horny perv, after all the teasing and the struggle to make it through these matches, I desperately wanted him to take off his pants. I readied to open my mouth as Ted slid a finger into the sock and prepared to peel it off.

“C’mon, bud, it’s not that hard to just tell me to peel off the other stinker.” He grunted humorously.

“Oh… yeah. Take off the other sock then, please.” I mumbled. It would just be easier to go along with what Ted wanted. Besides, he said he’d wanted to get more comfortable. Considering I’m gonna keep coming out on top, the least I could do was let him be comfortable as he lost.

“Hah, ‘Please?’ Well at least you’re learning some manners.” Ted said amused. As we went back to the third game, he stretched out his legs and crossed his feet.

I was determined to keep winning. Even as it felt like my capabilities were diminishing for some reason… maybe the exhaustion. Still, as our little characters were sent into the first mini game, I stayed laser focused on the screen. It was hard fought, but this time I made it to the final round with Ted.

This was a survival round, and per our rules, the winner doesn’t have to win the whole thing, just survive longer than the other person. Our characters stood on platforms that would disappear after a few moments and we had to keep running and jumping around to stay alive as we used up our flooring. Tier after tier of flooring disappeared until we were nearing the bottom. Both Ted and I still in it. He was one tier below me, giving me the upper hand. As I sat frozen and focused, Ted remained calm and assured of himself.

“Now don’t think you got this in the bag just because I’m closer to fallin’ out.” He crossed his right leg and leaned his head forward, bringing in his focus as well.

My nose started to twitch and burn again, inadvertently drawing my eyes down to the source. His right foot looked as though it was facing me, staring at me. The toes wiggled playfully despite Ted’s clear focus, as if demonstrating that he was still relaxed and in control beneath that facade of focus. He stretched and scrunched his foot and I had to scratch my nose to stop the burning. A half second after I did, I heard the sound of one of us being eliminated. I looked up excitedly as I saw my screen now mirroring his own, an indication that I had been the one eliminated.

“Fuck yeah!” He shouted, as excited as I had been mere moments ago. “I don’t know what the fuck got into you, but you were barely fuckin’ moving, dude!” Chuckling he taunted me further. “Finally realize you can’t win against me? I told you there was something in the air, and I’m about to dominate you, just watch and see!”

Almost as if not caring to even try anymore, Ted was eliminated himself shortly after as I sat in disbelief. I tried to shake his arrogance, but it was hard to let go of when I knew he had been getting closer and closer to winning each game, not just this one.

I was so much better than him. What the fuck was going on?!

As he started up the third round of our games, he demanded, “Pants off, now.”

Still stunned, I stood up and slowly took my pants off before dropping them next to my shirt. It wasn’t until I felt a huge, meaty hand slap my bare ass that I was brought back to reality.

“Fuck, dude! You’re fucking kinky as hell wearing a jockstrap to work! Haha, that cozy ass desk job really lets you get away with anything, huh?!”

My face now bright red, I quickly sat back down, still able to feel the sensation of Ted’s sweaty hand against my cheek. At a loss for words, I reached for a blanket to try and cover up when Ted maneuvered around and kicked my hand with a foot.

“Hey! No covering up! We’re stripping as a part of the bets, that’d defeat the purpose!”

Ted didn’t take his eyes off the screen as I tried to protest and continue pulling a blanket toward me. “Ted, come on, this is embarr—“ He moved his foot to kick away my hand again before missing and I felt a warm and sweaty, dirty sole push into my face. Once again, as the wet musk forced its way into my olfactory senses, the strange sensation with my nose died down and inadvertently released tension in my shoulders and relaxed my face.

“Hah! Whoops, didn’t mean to do that,” he feigned apologetically despite keeping his foot up against my face. “But this works too. Shut you up good, hah! Now, like I said, no covering up. If you win and get me to take off my pants, then I’ll sit right next to you just the same. I won’t have my hairy cheeks out like your smooth ass is out,” he chuckled to himself, “but I’d do it all the same.” After a pausing a second and wiggling his big, meaty toes across my face, he asked, “Do you understand? You gonna sit there bare cheeks exposed like a good boy?”

Despite feeling embarrassed and shaken, I gently nodded, almost caressing my face into his feet.

“Good. Now let’s get back into this shit so I can kick your ass some more!” He cheered, removing the huge sole from my face. I turned my attention back to the game and tried to set up a different build to try and help, but as I did, I couldn’t help but notice that discomfort return to my nose.

Switching up my build from balanced to speedy, I chose one of the thinner female racers which elicited a response from Ted.

“Heh, really leaning into them fag roots now with that pick. But we both know that’s not gonna help you. My man’s huge, like me. He’s gonna run right through and dominate you.” Ted taunted.

I was so focused on trying to win, I barely registered the individual words he said, just that he was saying he’d crush me.

“You’ve been getting destroyed at this,” I pushed back, trying to hold on to my confidence. “There’s no way you’re gonna fucking win. I can guarantee it.”

“Heh,” he grinned devilishly as our racers lined the starting point. “Fine, let’s make this interesting. Shake things up. You win, and you can have me take off two pieces of clothing.”

“You’re on! I’ll do it!—” I agreed proudly.

“Ah,” he cut me off as our racers took off down the course. “If I win, you don’t have to take off anything though, since you’re already soooo close to losing the whole damn thing.” He teased, before revealing my loss condition. “Instead, you’ll be bargaining a service. I’ll get to have you do whatever I want… for five minutes! So thanks for already agreeing!” He snickered.

To his credit, playing these games with these conditions had gotten me more invested… and as I was more invested, I was more intent to win. In a final act of defiance, I asserted, “Fine! But it’s not going to happen. I know it! So it doesn’t matter, we could bet that I do whatever you want five, ten… even, fifteen minutes, but it’s not happening!”

“HAH! You just dug your grave, little man. I know exactly what I’ll have a cocky little shit like you do for fifteen minutes, maybe it’ll teach you some humility.”

Our racers finished the first and second laps as we concluded our banter. I had been ahead of Ted for most of the race, a huge boon thanks to that speed he tried to discredit; but as we approached the halfway point of the final lap he finally pulled ahead of me.

“Heh, victory is within grasp, I can already feel your hands working my tired arches and soles.”

“What?” I questioned, distracted.

“Yeah, that’s right, when I win you’re gonna really get to experience being beneath me. Literally. Hope you enjoy getting up close and personal with my big dogs. Gonna shut that trap of yours and have you treat me like a king.”

He gloated as if his victory was assured. But I had one last chance. As we approached the end point, I was trailing behind him with a speed item. He was close to the edge of the course on his left and after taking a sharp turn, I was closer and could use my speed item to cut past him. Going to the right was safer, but I knew I could do it.

I clicked to use the item while there was still time left and shouted, “I’m not rubbing your big stinky—“ 

Then just as I got ready to pass him, his heavy-class male character rammed their kart into the kart of the light-class female character I’d chosen and sent it flying off the edge.

Not a second later, he passed the finish line in first.

“Whoo!” Ted erupted joyously, practically jumping in his seat. “What’d I tell you about playing a faggy character, dude! A man always comes out on top!” I was too stunned to speak and while I tried to find the words, I felt his big sweaty paw on the back of my neck shove me to the ground. Turning around he moved his feet on top of me, pressing my back against the ground. “Now, what was that about my feet? You said you wouldn’t rub my stinky feet? Is that anyway to talk about the man who owns you for the next fifteen minutes?” His arrogance grew ten times what it’d ever been. He was enjoying this. “I think a little bitch in your place should learn to enjoy their job. And since your job is rubbing my stinky,” he emphasized the word again, “feet, you’re not just gonna rub ‘em. Start with the right,” he demanded, shaking the foot in my face as I lifted my hands, still too stunned to do anything else but what he was telling me. “And, while you rub that one. You’re gonna be taking deeeeep whiffs of the other.” He extended his left foot into my face until it engulfed me. My head spun underneath the dank cheesy captor.

I opened up my mouth to speak, and perhaps feeling my lips brush against his feet due being pressed against them, he pushed harder, shutting me up just like he said he would. “No talking. Don’t even try to weasel out of this. You agreed. Heh, you fucking pushed it. Tripling the damn time. Bet you wish you didn’t put your damn foot in your mouth now.” He laughed as he spoke before pausing at the end. “Heh… HA! No… not yet at least. That just gave me a realllll good idea… Hahaha, I’m sure you’ll learn it soon enough, but for now, rub, bitch! I’ll tell you when to switch.”

I was unnerved by whatever his new idea was, but with my face pinned down by his foot and my senses dizzied from swimming in his musk that could only be defined as the epitome of manliness… the only thoughts that could make it through were those telling me to just go along with what Ted wanted. It was easier to just do what Ted wanted.

And so I did, exactly as he said, I took a deep, deep inhale of his foot sweat, right between the dirty toes speckled with toe jam. Above me, Ted closed his eyes and relaxed, seeming to enjoy the sensation of me inhaling his foot funk as I massaged the other foot.

Overwhelmed by the essence of Ted, my brain just… shut down. I massaged and inhaled, exhaled and massaged. My hands moving as if they had a mind of their own, which they must have because I wasn’t really thinking about what I was doing, but in the fuzzy understanding that I had, I could just barely make out them pausing and focusing on certain areas after he’d groan in pleasure from those focal points being attended to.

Eventually, he swapped feet, and this time, his right foot truly covered my entire face. Instead of placing my nose between his first two toes, it founds itself beneath his long, wide arch. Unable to see anything, I closed my eyes and continued the deep inhales while massaging his feet.

During this period, my nose, while assaulted by his scent, felt completely at ease. It made it easier to lean into this. A thought appeared, but completely subjugated beneath his feet, it never fully registered: All my discomfort and pain stops when I listen to Ted and inhale his ripe feet. That unregistered thought tickled my brain and I took deeper, fuller breaths.

After switching feet, I could just barely make out Ted moving around above me. His foot would slightly shift its weight and I’d hear the couch groan as he adjusted his position. Despite this, I just kept my eyes closed and inhaled as I massaged his feet. That was, after all, what he told me to do.

However, after another minute, he sighed, sounding slightly disappointed and removed his foot from my face. My eyes fluttered open and saw his phone angled down toward me as his foot roughly slapped the side of my face.

“Any words you have to say now, foot sniffer?”

“Huh…?” I said slowly, trying to understand what was going on, my head still spinning and subdued from his stink.

“How about a ‘Thank you, Ted?’” He jeered, pushing his big toe into my cheek.

“Th… Thank you… Ted—“ I started to say, still going along with whatever he told me. But as I spoke, I finally felt grounded again and realized what he was doing and opened my mouth to tell him to delete the recording, “Ted—“

“You’re welcome!” He shouted above my voice, “Thanking me for letting you rub my stinky, dirty feet, hah! This is too good!” He grinned to himself and ended the recording, putting his phone into his pocket.

“Ted! Delete that!” I yelled, what the fuck was he doing, he never said anything about that!

“That’s not anyway to talk to your roomie after you agreed to rub his feet.” He taunted me, riling me up. “Maybe if you say please, I’ll consider it.”

I did NOT want to listen to him any longer… but I wanted that recording deleted. Reluctantly, I grumbled out, “Please…”

“What?” Ted teased.

“Please, Ted. Please delete that recording.” I spoke up.

“Kiss my foot and maybe I’ll do it.”

“No way! I’m not kissing your dirty foot. Your time is up!” I rose from the ground.

“Fine, if you want me to delete it then beat me in another game.” He was goading me, but unable to think of another way to get him to do it, given he was much bigger and stronger than me, I acquiesced.

“Fine! You delete it and you take off two pieces of clothing.” I bargained.

“I’ll delete it if you win— nothing else— but if I win, you either take off two pieces of clothing, or you have to be my slave again. 45 minutes this time!”

“Fine!” I acquiesced, still a little tipsy on his foot stink.

I wouldn’t lose again. He was even more shit at this next game. There was no way I would lose.

After picking our characters, I went for another faster paced character whose skill centered around dodging attacks. Seeing me switch up who I selected again to a lithe androgynous male, Ted grunted a laugh once more.

“Another faggy pick.” He said, as he selected a beefy, muscular man with slight pudge, just like him. “We both know what happens when you have a real man and a fag up against one another.”

“What fucking happens, Ted?” I bit back defiantly as the game started. He immediately ran at me and predicting that, I moved to dodge. But my timing was off and his character grabbed mine and threw him to the ground before stomping on him.

“The fags always end up beneath our feet!” He roared victoriously.

Frustrated and desperate I tried to avoid and dodge and get in hits where I could, but after several minutes, I was down to my last life and on the verge of being taken out again. Meanwhile he’d only lost one life and was still plenty healthy. I was dodging a lot, but wasn’t able to get many hits in. And more often than not, when I’d try, he’d counter. Often doing that same move of throwing me to the ground and crushing my character beneath his feet.

It was so irritating. He kept doing it. Over and over. It was like I couldn’t figure out how to see that coming. Just like I didn’t see his hand coming when he pulled me to the ground and pushed his actual feet into my face… Sweating, I nervously glanced at his feet. I… He was going to make me rub his feet again wasn’t he…? Or do more… I was going to lose again… No! I… I wouldn’t lose! I wouldn’t be under his feet!

With desperation, I launched a heavy offensive that landed and combo’d him until he was weak. My breathing picked up as I grew excited and hopeful for victory.

“Urgh, no, you don’t!” He grumbled, finally breaking free of the combo. I was caught up in it as his character recovered. I had to dodge right before he got me. I had to dodge! I moved to press the button to dodge and slick with sweat, my finger slipped and pressed the button for a light attack. “Get back under these feet!” He cried out as his character performed the heavy attack, taking priority over mine, “Where you belong!” His character did one final stomp onto my character’s face before they flew out of bounds, losing me the game.

“HAH! I fucking knew today was my day! Another goddamn victory for alpha men everywhere!” He gloated in glee. “Now what am I gonna have you do…”

Freaking out and seeing flashes of his dirty feet engulfing my face again, I pleaded, “Wait— I get to choose… I… I get to choose… I’ll… I’ll…” I paused realizing what my choices were. Either let him order me which two of my remaining three clothes to take off, two socks and my jock, or let him order me to do whatever he wanted for 45 minutes.

“Yeah, what are you gonna choose,” he wondered with a shit-eating grin spread across his face. Turning toward me, he flicked my nipple again and pressed me. “Time is running out. I’ll decide if you can’t.” He counted down from ten, each second, flicking my nipple again. “Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five… Four… Three… Two… One…” I couldn’t decide. His huge feet were staring at me as they rested on the ottoman, I could practically see myself sitting there, face pressed between his soles. With every flick of my nipple, he’d press further and harder—

“Well, I guess I’ll—“

“Wait— Clothes, please… Clothes, I choose clothes.” I pleaded.

“You ran outta time, boy. Why should I let you decide now?”

His words sank into my brain like a knife cutting through butter. I needed to give him something, make him want to let me follow through on this! “Because… because…” I looked down and saw my remaining, skimp attire. “Because I have three pieces of clothes left. There’ll be one more… you… you can make me do something if you win. I’ll take off the last piece of clothing and you can make me do something.”

“For how long?” He continued to apply pressure.

“An hour! You get to win and have me strip down completely and I’ll be your slave for an hour!”

“Heh, fine. And if you win, I’ll take off my coat. How about that?”

“Deal!” I agreed immediately, not wanting him to back out and completely forgetting about the recording.

“Good, now strip the jock and one sock, I don’t care which.”

“Th… The jock?” I mumbled out in disbelief.

“Yeah,” he cooed, amused with himself. “The jock. Take it off. Remember you asked for this.” His words unfroze me. I… I had asked for this. I begged him to let me choose this option. He was just getting his right to pick what I had to remove.

I slowly slipped down the jock and as it fell to the floor, I was met with snide amusement. “Hoo boy. You must have really been enjoying the thought of being down at my feet again, huh? Although, it’s really only that big hard, eh?”

I blushed looking down and seeing my dick standing at attention 3.5 inches hard. I started to move my hands when I caught myself and pulled them back. “S-sorry… I know… No covering.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Be proud of that dicklet. It suits you.” I was surprised he was being so kind, despite his certain choice wording.

“Really?” I asked naively.

“Yeahhhh, signifies to everyone else you’re a fag. Lets real men know what you are and how to treat ya! Hahaha!” His raucous laughter overshadowed any emotions I had at that response, instead only allowing me to hang on to his earlier words of being proud and how this dick suits me. I guess… I guess I’m glad it suits me. Maybe I should be glad to have a little dick.

I leaned forward to take a sock off and after pulling it off, felt his huge paw slap my ass for the second time, sending jiggles across it. “Fuck, you do have a bubble butt if I’ve ever seen one. How have I never noticed that?”

“Heh, I work it out as much as I can.” I grinned, leaning into that same pride he’d told me to feel about my small dick.

“Damn,” he mused, now pawing at it. “If you were a girl, I’d have your clit wrapped around my dick whenever I wanted. And it ain’t a tiny thing like yours. Fuck, it’d break you in two, yeah.”

“R-really?” I once again asked naively, my earlier reservations about appearing horny for my hot roommate now all disinhibited.

“Ha, yeah, 8 inches and thick,” Ted declared as he gripped it through his jeans. He… wasn’t lying. It was fucking huge. “That’s all you get for now, if you wanna see it, you have to win, understood?”

“Y-yeah… it’s still a ways off though… First it has to be your coat, like we agreed… Then it should be your shirt. Then…” I looked him over more closely as he set up the third game again. “Oh. You have a watch… does that count?”

“Hell yeah. So you’re saying it’d be my coat, then shirt, and then watch?”

“Y-yeah… oh and then you have a belt… so I guess that. Then your pants… and after all that… Then… Then I guess it would be your underwear.”

“Boxers, specifically. I don’t wear fag shit like you.” He laughed, “But all right, if that’s the order you want to go in, I’ll hold you to it then. If you can even win that many times.”

“It is so far off, huh…”

“Heh, yup. It might just be easier to lose now. Let me take my win and have you strip that last sock and own you as my slave for an hour.”

My head and thoughts had felt like they were stuck in syrup, slowed and dumbed down. But hearing him talk about the games again, I finally felt like the gears were turning again and getting unstuck.

“N-no… No. I’m gonna win. I have to keep going. I will keep going!” I proclaimed.

“Good for you little dude. You have a long ways to go and everything to lose, but it’s more fun when you have fight, am I right?” He sneered cockily.

“I’ll win this one, just watch!”

“Okay, bud, sure.” He chuckled not taking me seriously.

The game consisted of a lot of obstacle courses, thankfully the mini game mode I was better at. Fifteen minutes later we were on the second to last round. We had to climb up a set of obstacles to avoid being taken out. Ted was awful at these and after making it all the way, the entire time focusing on how I needed to win, I watched as Ted, doing his best progressed, slowly but surely, until the elimination zone caught up with him and took him out.

“YES!” I cheered excitedly. Finally feeling back in the game and recentered, I remembered the video he took. “Delete it! Delete that video! I won!”

“Heh, now yer just forgetting on purpose.” He shook his head, sliding off his coat. “Remember, we agreed, if you won then I’d take off my coat. Then you said that for the next five wins, I’d gradually strip. Little dude, you gotta win at least six more games if you want me to delete that video.”

Memories of me saying what he’d have to do if I won, and that he’d hold me to it came bubbling up. Shit!

“But like I said earlier, Lev, we can keep going as long as you want. Even if I win the strip bets, there are other things we can bet.” He smirked, clearly wanting this to go on.

“I… you have to delete that. I’ll keep going. I’ll keep fucking going. What do we bet then, huh?”

“Well, it’s what we’ve already been doing, we’d bet servitude. If you lose another round, we could keep going, but you’d have to do even more for me. And since it’s the only condition for you, it’d be much steeper at that point.” He claimed, appearing sincere.

I felt at a loss. I… I couldn’t let him keep that video. “Fine, we’ll keep going. Whatever takes to get you to delete it!”

“Hah, that’s the spirit. Now, onto round 4!”

We played the racing game yet again, and I went for the same character; however, this time I planned to play much safer.

“Oh boy, we saw what happened last time you played as the girl.” He recalled amused as the race started. “We already know I’ll break any girl and the fags who play as them. I’m ready to get that hour of service from a good little fag.” He continued to taunt.

I stayed silent, focusing in on the race and not letting his words get to me. Just don’t think about him, not in any way, shape, or form. You can do this, you can do this!

As we approached the end of the race, he was dangerously close behind me. So close that I knew he was going to get a draft and pass me. Picking the lesser of two evils in playing it safe, I swerved and watched as he threatened to pass me right at the finish line. By the time we crossed, neither of us knew who had won until a moment later when it showed that I had gotten first.

“Fuck YES!” I cheered once again. “You’re not breaking this fag!” I taunted, oblivious to the derogatory term I’d used to describe myself.

“Heh, nice job, nice job.” He admitted. “It’s not so bad losing, your character is pretty hot. It’s easy to let a woman win when she’s hot, that’s how you get them all excited before you go in for the kill and get them begging to be bouncing on your balls. Not that you’d understand that… Though, the same strategy would probably work on you, I’d assume. I don’t think you could fool anyone into thinking you’re the one doing the fucking with that tiny dicklet.” He laughed, pinching my nipple before standing up and taking off his shirt.

He sat back down and stretched his arms behind his head as the fighting game reloaded. Sitting so close to him, the vinegary stench of his pits quickly wafted into my nostrils and suddenly I became keenly aware of my surroundings again. My eyes darted to his pits, densely coated with thick fur, and trailed down his similarly hairy pecs and belly until it reached his feet. The cheesy musk suddenly burst into my sense of smell.

I felt light-headed once again as my nose twitched from the assault. I quickly chose my same twinkish character as Ted chose his same bear-like man. Shit, this would be an uphill battle.

As we dropped into the arena, I recalled the last match. Ted liked to use that one attack. He would get me under his feet and… and… he would get me under his feet and make me massage them and smell them, I thought to myself, bringing up the image of his warm, dirty soles on my face.

I tried to dodge once again when he did a ranged attack and landed right in front of him. It was too late. Locking me into that same combo, Ted laughed as his character shoved mine to the ground before stomping on him. “Came right to Daddy to get his feet in your face, eh, boy?” I groaned, bothered by his taunt, and how I really had jumped right to him.

I was playing in the palm of Ted’s hand and he was gonna use that hand to smear his sweaty feet across my face again! I needed to win! I needed to win so many times… It felt like every game Ted was winning. He’d stripped me down and put me beneath his feet so quickly. Was this really going to end any different?

As I battled these thoughts, my playing suffered and Ted easily grappled my character, and did huge amounts of damage. Before I knew it, I lost my first life. Shit… I could practically already smell his dank feet again. At least then it’d get my nose to stop burning. Fuck, it was twitching so much. I tried to dodge him but had to rub my nose which put me in a precarious position. He knocked me away and started running toward me. Fuck! He was gonna put me under his feet again! I glanced down at his toes, lightly dusted with reddish-blond hair and instinctively dodged back. It wasn’t until I looked up again that I realized, I’d dodged off the edge of the map. I tried to do a special jump to climb back up, but it was too late. SHIT!

“Heh, now you’re just throwing to get me to dominate you, huh? Heard me say how I’d throw for a hot chick and decided you wanted to do the same for me? Shucks, it’s almost cute how much you want to be back under these feet.” He arrogantly teased me, frustrating me further.

“I- I’m not throwing!” I insisted, losing all control of any technical skill. “You’re just better. I can’t beat you!”

“That’s right, fag, you can’t win.” Ted agreed.

“No matter what I do, it’s like my character just isn’t strong enough. I just end up back underneath your feet.”

“That’s because that’s where fags belong. Underneath an alpha males feet.” I tried not to listen, but it was as if the game revealed what he said to be true, my character was just too slow, too weak, and every time Ted would stomp his feet onto my face.

Ted flexed his meaty toes and that odor wafted clear and strong into my nose, finally abating the discomfort. I relaxed a little and dodged Ted’s range attack, once again moving toward him.

“Too fucking easy. Come right to Daddy, Faggot.” He gloated as his character smashed mine into the ground and he went flying. I was stunned and put my controller down in defeat, but after a second we both realized he hadn’t knocked my character out. Despite this, slowly they fell off the map and took my final life.

“There was no use anyway. You would have just continued to dominate me. You’re too good. I can’t beat you at this.” I conceded, defeated. I stripped off my last sock and knelt down, ready to massage his feet again.

“That’s right, fag, you can get back to massaging. Remember, it’s for one hour this time. Oh, and instead of just sniffin’ my sweaty feet, this time you’ll be kissin’ and lickin’ ‘em, understood? Good bitch boy.” He asserted without even letting me answer. One foot suddenly shoved into my face and I felt that same resignation wash over me. Ted was just too fucking good. He was too strong. It was easier to just go along with what he said. Let him take control. Besides, I’d made this bet.

My tongue slid out and coated itself in his dirty foot jam sending shivers down my spine. “Fuuuuck, yeah, that’s a good fag. These fuckin’ dogs were killing me. Clean ‘em up nice, and make me feel good” He moaned above me as I tongue-bathed his sweaty feet.

In spite of myself… I found it now, strangely, easy to be beneath Ted’s feet. Something I would have never thought before now. The ripe odor now felt easy to breathe, I naturally took deep inhales which soothed my nose and help my mind to forget anything else. The scent was overpowering, overwhelming. So I could forget about everything else. I could just lick and kiss his tough feet. Rub out all their tension and make him feel good, just like he wanted. I spent a long time cleaning both his feet, yet even when he switched, they weren’t even halfway licked spotless. Eventually he had me stop massaging and placed both over my face. There was so much to do. Obscuring my vision and the entirety of his dirty soles only helped me focus in and forget my worries… forget about winning… and forget about that damn recording—

SHIT! The recording! Suddenly, it all came back to me, I needed to win. I needed to get him to get rid of the recording. I felt overwhelmed, he’d won so much. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to focus back on what mattered… He won… five games and we’d played… eleven…? Wait so I won SIX? How could I have forgotten that. It had felt like I’d lost every game… I clearly could win… So how could I win this time? I needed a way to try something else… I sat stewing for a while with my eyes closed as Ted naturally moved his soles and toes to where he wanted me to lick. Finally I thought of a strategy to intentionally make him fail at the next game.

Ted had his meaty big toe swirling around in my mouth when he once again spoke disappointedly. “All right, it’s been an hour, I supposed I should let ya stop.” I finished licking between his toes, cleaning out the last of the toe jam in between as he sighed contentedly, chuckling “‘Least I got some good new footage.”

My eyes slowly opened to see him recording his toe being tongue washed. His toe withdrew from my mouth with a soft ‘pop’ as I sat there frustrated once again. “TED! Seriously?!” I whined.

“Ha, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity, bud. Just keep winning and after you get me to delete the first, you could have me delete this one too. If you didn’t keep losing, I wouldn’t keep getting new recordings.” Ted reasoned. 

“Ugh, fine.” I acquiesced. “I just gotta get a comeback, then I’ll have you delete them, no matter how many you take.” His toe jam still coating my lips and tongue, I hazily went along with his schemes, only able to concentrate enough to know I needed to win, and how I could try to win.

“That’s right, bud. You just gotta keep hoping to win. In the meantime, we’ll keep coming up with more and more for you as you lose.” He grinned, confidently as I stood up. “Speaking of, that raging hard on of your little cock reminds me. You’ve lost the strip bet. So what should we have you do now.”

“I… I have to win to have you delete those recordings. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Heh, good. Well, since we have to be much harsher about these bets now, how about this: one week. For one week, you’ll be my little fag slave, doing whatever I want.” He flexed his arms behind his head, showing off his strong muscles and bushy pits.

My nose twitching and itching in response to the sour musk, I hastily agreed. “Okay, yeah, one week! I won’t lose this next one though, I know it!”

“We’ll just have to see about that now won’t we?”

We locked in for this twelfth game, the night having worn on and closing in on 11 PM now. Yet, fueled by desperation, I stayed energized.

Just like I planned, we started the knockout game and after a few easy rounds, we got to an elimination mini game. I trailed behind him waiting for the perfect opportunity. Then, as the elimination zone approached, I grabbed his character to try and throw them off.

“You little…!” He grumbled. As both our characters came dangerously close to the knockout zone. Letting go of him I made a mad dash for the safe area as he was left behind. Struggling to maneuver his character effectively in time, he eventually got taken out.

“Phew,” I sighed, relieved that I’d won again. I was one step closer to getting those recordings deleted.

“What a tricky little fag you are,” He grunted out, both annoyed but also impressed. “Fine, a win’s a win.” He admitted, removing his watch.

“But after that trickery, if you want to keep going, you’ll be betting two weeks of being my faggot slave, got that?”

My confidence was shaking as the larger threat loomed over me, but I remained convicted toward my goal. “Yeah, two weeks. And, sorry, I know that was underhanded.” I said apologetically.

“Heh, it just goes to show the means you have to go to so you can beat me. But sitting on the couch is for real men who don’t need such tricks; park your ass on the ground from now on, got it?”

“Yeah... yeah of course,” I agreed, feeling admonished and genuinely sorry for my sly tactics. But I did what I had to do to win. I needed to keep winning.

So once again we started up our racing game. Locking in our same characters. No snide remarks this time. At least, whatever bothered my nose abated for this time.

As the race set up to start, part of my vision of the screen was obscured by his huge feet. I tried to focus as much as I could, but was unable to come anywhere near him as we finished the first lap.

“Ugh, you’re too good.” I complained, my mind hazing over. I forgot about the rest of this night, and was only aware of this one moment. Of him dominating me.

“You gotta try better than that, otherwise I’m gonna have your faggot ass worshipping me for two weeks.” He successfully goaded me.

“Come onnnn! Your feet are too distracting!” I pleaded. “They’re so big and beefy, I can’t focus with them in front of the screen.”

He condescendingly laughed at me, prodding, “Oh yeahhh? What’s so distracting about them?”

I let out a pathetic whimper as I continued to fall further and further behind him. “All I can think about when I see them is that you’re gonna have me back under them. I can’t stop thinking about kissing and licking your arches, and sucking on your toes. And I feel like I missed some toe jam when I was cleaning them earlier and it gets in the way of me focusing…”

“Ahhhh, I gotcha,” he chuckled as he entered the final stretch of the last lap. “Here, I’ll help ya out.” He offered as he shifted his left leg over moving it from in front of the TV and bent his right knee so his foot was facing me. “Any toe jam left?” He snickered.

My eyes naturally wandered off the screen and over to his foot. The smell intensifying. It felt so warm… so suffocating. It felt so good to be buried beneath it. My eyes scanned across his whole, big, wide foot, taking in all the dirt that still remained.

“Y-yeah…” I whimpered out. “I still have more I need to clean.” I leaned closer and closer. Feeling myself be dug further and further beneath his foot and forgetting about the game as Ted’s character crossed the finish line.

“Fuck yeah!” He shouted, and grabbed my head shoving it the rest of the way against his foot. Instinctively, my tongue lunged out and swiped up the missed lint.

“That’s it! Worship your fucking master, fag boy, because I fucking own you for the next two weeks! And fucking smile for the camera!” I looked up to see him snapping several pictures as my tongue was plunged between his toes.

“Teeeed…” I whined.

“Ah, ah, ah, faggot. You’re my slave, so you do what I say. Now kiss my foot for another photo!”

I obediently leaned in and placed my nose between his toes and softly kissed the balls of his feet as he took a photo and a short video.

“Come on, there has to be more…” I begged between laps at his long soles.

“What else you wanna bet,” he snickered, already knowing he’d won.

“A month… two months. I’ll— I’ll be your slave for two months, let’s just keep going!”

“Ha, fine. But you’re still my slave now, so you gotta play this next game with my toes in your mouth, got it, faggot?” “Y-yes…” I mumbled out. That made sense… I was Ted’s faggot. If he wanted me sucking on his toes while we played, then I had to do it. 

“Yes, what?” He demanded.

I thought for a second as I leaned forward and with my lips brushing against his meaty toes whimpered out, “Yesh, shir,” as his toes filled my mouth.

“That’s it faggot.” He sneered.

As the next game started, I slowly moved my character and tried to get him in position when Ted reminded me, “I think there was still some gunk between my toes. Don’t you wanna get that, fag?”

“Ohh… fhank yhu,” I answered gratefully. I put down the controller as I grabbed and massaged his feet licking between each toe. Easily, he stomped my character until they were all out of lives.

“Heh, weeeelp, you ought to get used to this, bitch boy, because it’s two months now.” Ted stretched his back, pawing and scratching at his strong, hairy pecs.

“Ugh…” I moaned out, reluctantly prying my mouth off his toes, “come on… there has to be something more… we can’t stop now…” I cried out, turning to face him.

“You’re already my little faggot for quite a while, what can you do to make this more enticing?”

I sat there lowering my eyes from his face back down to his feet. “You can own me longer…” I started to say, “Four months… No, six months… that’s still too short…” As I grappled with coming up with something worthwhile, Ted sat above me basking in victory, in his domination. “A… a— a year! Just one more game, I’ll be your slave for a year!”

“That’s getting better, but don’t you think I deserve a little bit more? What happens if you win? How’s that gonna be enticing for me?”

“I’m not gonna win though…” I started to pout, before regaining a little composure. “You— You’re right… A year is too short… How about… How about two years and… and you can decide to extend it whenever you want!”

“Hah!” He roared, pleased. “Now you’re making this worthwhile for Daddy.”

I smiled, happy he was finally open to the bet. “And— and if I somehow win, you get to decide what I win… does that seem fair?” I had maneuvered to the other end of the ottoman and started lapping at the still dirty parts of his soles. “Heh, that sounds plenty fair to me. It’s a deal!” He agreed, before stipulating, “And let’s just already establish, if you won— which you won’t— you’d still be my faggot slave for two years, with me being able to extend it whenever!”

Some small part of me was confused by my rewards, and with that small subtle confusion expressed on my face, Ted fanned his toes, blowing that heavy, heady musk to sedate me. My eyes went glassy and after noticing this, Ted stretched his feet out, pushing them into my face.

“All right, last game. As my little slave, you gotta kiss and lick my nasty dogs the whole time, no touching the controller.” After setting up his phone to record the whole thing, he barked, “Got that, faggot?!”

“Yes… sir…!” I answered, voice muffled as I worshipped his stinky feet.

“Oh, and what are you again?” Ted jeered.

“A faggot!” I cried out from beneath his soles.

“And whose faggot are you?”

“Yours, an alpha males, sir!”

He slapped my face with his huge feet in response, pleased with my answer. A minute later, we heard the elimination noise as I was taken out without ever playing.

Ted feigned disappointment, “Awww, would you look at that... You’re my slave for the next two years now… only, I can extend it whenever I fucking want! You’re my fucking faggot for life. Understand?!” “Yesh, shir! Thanmfk yhu, shir!” “That’s a good faggot...” Ted mused, “Too fuckin’ easy… Stan had the right idea with you faggots.all you gotta do is just make ‘em bet away their lives.” He laughed turning off the games and sitting back as I worshipped his feet.

-

-

-

I hope you all enjoyed this story! I was planning to release the second part to Subjugated Under Master Christian next, but then life got very hectic with the holiday season, work, and my personal life. It was only after speaking briefly with fellow foot lover @footsockboy that I found motivation to pick up and write another story. This picture definitely helped as well as it’s super fucking hot.

One thing that I’ve been tossing around in my head that could help with motivation is having an option for people to offer tips for the stories. I love writing and providing stories for fellow foot subs and masters, and that certainly is motivating all on it’s own, and this would offer another way to motivate me, especially to be more consistent. I also love my longer stories, but they do take time… and so I can plan to write shorter pieces with more parts, and that would help me push them out more consistently!

With regard to tipping, it wouldn’t need to be anything crazy; it can be one-time or however many times you want, and could just be a single dollar or any other amount you want. If people are going to support me this way, I want it to be because they want to and for it to be in a way they are comfortable with.

Either way, I’ll put the link out there in case anyone is feeling generous and wants to support their fellow foot lover in his writing endeavors.

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.