Slave Dog

Because loyalty is easier to find than competition.

An inferior man admires your strength, respects your leadership, and rarely challenges your position. While equals compete for dominance, the weaker man often becomes the most dependable ally — grateful for guidance, protection, and opportunity.

Your office bully found those humiliating photos of you and finally understood the truth — that you secretly craved being reduced to nothing in front of real men. From that moment on, he made sure your old corporate life was over. No more pretending to be respectable, no more hiding behind office clothes and fake confidence.

He forced you to resign and turned you into his full-time house help instead, reminding you every single day exactly where you belonged.

But before ending your career for good, he decided to give you one final walk through the business district. While successful men in suits passed by, you followed obediently behind him, carrying his bags and avoiding eye contact, completely aware of how pathetic you looked compared to them.

Every step was humiliating, and he enjoyed every second of it — occasionally smirking, tightening his grip on your leash, making sure you understood that your old life was gone forever.

You really are lucky to have such a considerate bully.

Come here. Kneel. Put these on yourself, behind your back. Let that be the last decision you have to make. Don't worry about what happens next. Just submit. I'll take good care of you. Protect you. Make you the best little white slave you can be. I'll take all of your stress away. You'll only have to think about pleasing me. And we both know that's what you really want. So go ahead. Put these on for Daddy. Then bow your head and say say “Thank you, Sir.” You can do it. Make me proud.

Now re-blog this if you’re turned on. You will remember this feeling the next time you see an Asian alpha guy at the gym. You can no longer help it.

You’re welcome. Now goon to this bicep and pit like a good little white pig.

I love feeling of my face, nose, and lips rubbing against the soft cotton of His briefs - feeling the warmth of His cock and balls through the fabric - as His dick slowly grows large and erect.

I love the scent of a Man in white briefs. The mix of dried piss, ball sweat, and ass stink mingled with the fragrance from the laundry detergent is intoxicating.

Now fully erect, I love feeling His boner pressing against the soft cotton - stretching His briefs - aching to be released from its fabric cage.

Soon, a small wet patch begins to grow as His precum leaks through the briefs. I wrap my lips around the damp fabric encasing His swollen cock head and struggle to extract the flavor of His precum.

If I’m lucky, soon after this He will peel back the waistband of His briefs - allowing His erect penis to spring free - His now burning hot shaft slapping resting against my face as I breathe in the pungent cloud of His crotch stink.

Picture source: @black-socks-49

Story requested by follower J

Tony knocked on the leasing office door. He had a portion of the rent owed, but was still quite short. He was trying to keep from being three months late. The current payment would reduce it to only two months behind. He kept telling the landlord that he would bring it up to current each month, but that has been his common phrase for the past four months. He hoped he would accept the payment like he always does.

"Come in, Tony." Nathan opened the door. "At least I can say you get here by the 1st of the month, but now about your rent payment." He paused as he remembered the tenant promised to pay up to the current this month. That was a promise he had been hearing for four months now.

"Yes, about that. I only have one month's worth this time." Tony paused as he presented the cashiers check to him. "I promise next month I should have three months worth to give you." He added, knowing full well that he might not keep that promise either.

Nathan took the check. "It's been four months now of the same promise. What is the issue here?" He asked, wanting to know why he couldn't catch up the rent.

"It's the job thing. I got laid off and had to take a less paying job." Tony admitted. "But I promise as soon as I get a better job, I can catch things up." He said, not sure when that better job part will happen.

Nathan scratched his head. He was tired of the late rent payment and not getting all his money. Yet, he felt a little sorry for his tenant. He really needed a better job or a place he could stay for free. An idea popped into his mind just at that moment. He could solve both his and Tony's problems at the same time.

"I think I have a solution that could help both of us." Nathan spoke as he grabbed a glass and filled it with a drink He then handed it to Tony. "One where you get a better job and have a place to stay for free." He added as he watched Tony guzzle down the glass.

"That was good, thank you." Tony handed the glass back to Nathan. "What is your solution?" He asked him, curious if he was getting to stay in his apartment for free.

Nathan took out his phone and hit the flash option after putting in the setting on his special app. He had used it before when someone tried to break into one of his apartments. Instantly, Tony was replaced with a pair of black socks on the floor. He picked them up and examined both socks.

Tony instantly found himself completely immobilized and unable to speak. It was quite disconcerting. He was powerless to do anything. He soon felt a massive hand pick him up with ease as though he barely weighed anything. He didn't know what completely happened to him, but he didn't like it one bit.

"Looks like you make a great pair of socks, Tony." Nathan paused. "You have a new job of serving my feet and get to live on my feet for free. As for me, I have an apartment freed up to rent to a better tenant." He paused again with a smirk on his face. "Solve both of our problems." He laughed as he went and sat down. He took off his shoes and other socks. He then tried on his new socks. They felt so good on his feet. The durability formula that he gave Tony should have him last a very long time on his feet. He propped up his feet on the coffee table.

"I think this is the best arrangement. You don't have to pay rent anymore, but live on my feet for free. And I get to have that apartment freed up." Nathan paused, talking to his pair of socks. "Don't you think so, socks" He laughed while wiggling his toes in his new pair of durable black socks. "Hope you like feet." He added.

Tony didn't find any of this funny one bit. He was a human being, not some kind of footwear to be worn on a guy's feet. He could taste both feet of the landlord as though they were in his mouth. The smell of his owner's feet was intense. There was no escape from the taste or smell. The wiggling of his toes further proved how degraded he was. He was at the mercy of his former landlord's feet, and there was nothing he could do about it. The worst part was that he found feet disgusting. He tolerated his own feet because it was his own feet. Here he was now nothing but a pair of socks on another guy's feet.

"I promise I will catch up the rent! Please change me back! I don't want to be like this forever! Someone help me!" Tony mentally screamed as Nathan proceeded to put his shoes back on. The odor from his owner's shoes was so horrible. He could tell that he had worn them for a very long time. As he was shoved inside them with his owner's feet, he saw his horrific fate would only get worse. He was forced to taste and smell feet and be trapped in stinky shoes at the same time. With no means to call for help, he was at Nathan's mercy with no end in sight.

I carried the groceries up and let myself in. I've had the code to this place since he moved in, and the key to the one before it. Sunday is when I come.

I put everything away where it belongs. Washed the fruit and veg, wiped down the counter, made a note of what was running low for next week.

He was still asleep.

We were roommates in college. He was on the rugby team. The room was always a mess and at some point it became mine to deal with. The dorm, the shared kitchen, the errands. Ten years ago.

I started on the cooking first as I had a full week worth of meals to prepare. I had the stove going before I touched anything else.

Started cleaning the living room while the first pot came to a boil. Surfaces, the shelf above the TV, the windows. Floor. Back to the kitchen, I checked the heat, stirred, started chopping the veggies. Seasoned, adjusted, set a timer.

He came out of the bedroom around ten. I heard his footsteps going to the bathroom.

He showered for around thirty minutes. When he came out he had a towel around his waist and didn't look at me. Opened the fridge, stood there for a moment, closed it. Pulled on a shirt in the doorway of his bedroom. He'd always been big. Chest, shoulders, arms. I kept my eyes on the counter.

He picked up his keys and left. The door closed and the flat went quiet.

I went to the bedroom. Stripped the bed, fresh sheets on, straightened, floor, surfaces. The bathroom after. Toilet bowl, the rim, the tank. Sink, taps, mirror. The tiles. His products wiped down and put back in order. His towels in the wash, fresh ones folded on the rail.

The laundry ran while I cooked. I went back and forth, checking temperatures, adjusting heat, portioning into containers, stacking them by the day. Hoovered the bedroom, the hallway, the living room again once it was fully dry. Mopped after. Went back to the kitchen to start the next batch.

He'd figured it out in college. Third or fourth month in. He came back from training, dropped on the couch, feet up on the table like he always did. I was folding the laundry while eyeing his feet. He clocked it. Things got different after.

It started with the dorm. The cleaning, the errands. After graduation we lived together for another year. Then he moved for work. Different city, different flat. I thought that would be it. He texted me two weeks later with his new address. Sundays became standard.

The food was done by early evening. Boxed by meal, stacked in the fridge, labeled by day. I scrubbed the hob, the oven, inside the microwave. Cleaned the sink, dried every surface. Dishes washed and put away. Bin out, new bag in. I went through the flat once more. Checked the bathroom, straightened the bedroom doorway.

I was wiping down the kitchen counter when I heard his key in the door.

He came in and dropped his jacket on the hook. Went to the fridge, opened it, looked at the containers stacked by day. Stood there for a moment. Closed it. He moved to the living room without saying anything.

I finished the counter. Rinsed the cloth, wrung it out, folded it over the tap. Took a breath.

Then I went to him.

He was in the armchair, arms crossed, one leg resting over the other. He didn't look up.

I lowered myself to my knees.

"Done, Master."

He didn't move for a moment.

Then he shifted his leg and extended his foot toward me. Sole forward. His feet were huge. Wide at the ball, dry at the heel, the arch deep. Long toes, the second stretching just past the first.

I put out my tongue.

Heel to toe. One slow lick. The skin was warm and dry. He didn't move, didn't make a sound. His leg stayed exactly where it was.

Then he pulled back.

He reached for his phone. I stayed on my knees for a moment, then stood. Picked up my bag from the hallway. Let myself out.