by Reptilia
Spencer and I were always best friends.
All through elementary school and into middle school we remained so. But, around the age of puberty, our interests began to change. Namely, Spencer became interested in girls, where as I stayed interested in boys. And it wasn’t long before I found out that I was interested in something rather unusual – male feet. Specifically, Spencer’s feet. Spencer was always a basketball player. He was on the middle school team and eventually on the high school team.
By sophomore year, we’d begun to drift apart. He had his teammates and I didn’t do much in the way of sports. I was athletic I suppose, but I never really worked out or lifted. But, as I grew older, my obsession began to grow. I’d find myself staring off into space, thinking about Spencer’s feet, not once, nor twice, but maybe three or four times a class. It was all consuming.
Finally, one day during sophomore year, I was sitting behind him in our health class. It was the last period of the day, right before Spencer had practice. He was wearing some Jordans already. Not the ones he practiced in, but his school pair, for comfort. They looked amazing. I honestly couldn’t stop staring and all I really wanted was to bury my nose and face in them. I knew I had to have them. The bell rang and we parted ways, as he went to the locker room to change, I pretended to leave. I hid out in a bathroom for fifteen minutes, and then made my way to the locker room where I knew the basketball players kept their belongings. Theft was never really an issue at my school, and most players didn’t bother to lock up their clothes or shoes.
I snuck into the locker room, carefully listening to the make sure not a soul was present. After I had assured myself, I walked farther in towards the clothes. I was nervous and warming of fast – I knew what it meant if I got caught. But somehow, something inside of me made me continue. Whether it was the throbbing I began to feel in my pants, of the obsession in my head, I had to have those shoes.
Then, I saw them. Sitting there, propped up, they were clean, but fairly warn. I walked up to them, crouched down, and lifted the shoe to my nose, inhaling deeply. Immediately my anxiety and stress were gone – replaced with an orgasmic feeling as my penis jumped up. I was all consumed in less than a second. I reached down and began to stroke my cock through my jeans. I couldn’t stop. Just as I was going for another breath, I heard the door swing shut behind me. Whirling around, I saw Spencer standing there. He was dripping in sweat, wearing a cutoff - he looked amazing. But the confused expression on his face made me know I was in trouble.
“Dude” Spencer managed. “What the fuck?”
“I can explain!” I said back in a rushed voice. Inside my head, I screamed, as I really had no viable explanation. “Look man. I don’t really know what to say. I just have a foot fetish I guess. It’s no big deal…”
“No big deal? Dude are you gay? That’s a pretty fucking big deal!” he replied.
“I…I’m not really sure. I think I am at least interested in guys and girls.” I lied, trying to be less pathetic, but Spencer could see the lie in my eyes.
“You are lying. Shit dude. Look you have to go. I have to return to practice and more guys are going to be coming in and out of the locker room. And you definitely can’t be doing that. Look, just come to my house later and we’ll figure this out.” He turned and left.
I basically ran from the room, fighting back my emotions. I was panicking, and for good reason, I knew Spencer could easily out me to everyone. I walked home, trying to think up a plan, but I knew I would just have to wait until I went to Spencer’s house. As 8:00 rolled around, I left my house and headed over to Spencer’s.
I rung the doorbell and he answered. I noticed instantly that he was wearing his socks and shoes from practice still. Instantly I began to be turned on.
“Come in man.” He greeted me. “My parents are away for the week so I have the house to myself. Sooo… you’re a foot faggot huh? Don’t bother denying it, I read all about it on the Internet when I got home. Turns out, it’s a pretty common fetish. Rather disgusting if you ask me.” He walked over to the couch and propped his feet up on the table, still wearing the shoes. “Hey Jake, why don’t you come sit down.”
I walked over and sat next to him on the couch.
“No, you misunderstand, sit on the floor, near the table.” I gazed up at him questioningly. “Just fucking do it!” he said, angrily now. Something compelled me to listen. “You see Jake, as long as you have this fetish, I don’t see why I shouldn’t be able to take some benefit out of it myself. Now does that sound good to you?”
I stared at him a little longer before answering. As weird as this was, I wanted more than anything to have another sniff at his feet. “Uhh, yeah I guess.”
“Actually, the correct response is Sir. Yes Sir. That is what you are going to call me from now on. Got it?”
“Yes Sir.” I replied, completely dominated now, I hung my head.
“My shoes are pretty dirty from practice. Why don’t you go ahead and give them a lick? I wanna be able to see my fucking reflection in them.”
“Yes sir.” I replied, as I began to glide my tong along his shoes. It was pretty wonderful. As I felt humiliated and pathetic, I couldn’t help but notice my cock rising to attention. It began to throb in desire to be jerked off as I continued cleaning his shoes.
“Good boy, now, take my shoes off, gently now. We wouldn’t want to injure my precious feet.
I did as I was told. Gently removing the shoes, I quickly found his socks in my face. They were sweaty – wet, but still warm from practice. They felt orgasmic against my skin. I began to be turned on even more, threefold what I had experienced when I was licking his shoes.
“Only sniff them faggot.” Spencer shouted down at me.
“Yes Sir,” I replied as I continued to sniff them. They smelled like salt and sweat, but in a glorious sort of way. As pathetic as I felt, there was no way I wanted to stop.
“Would you like to lick my feet queer? How about you fucking beg to lick my feet?”
I wanted to scream back. To resist. To save some last bit of dignity I had acquired. As I briefly thought it over in my head, he commanded down at me “Just fucking do it.” Any ounce of resistance I had shattered. There was nothing I could do. I felt so compelled to lick his feet. Carefully, I removed his sock.
I took the first lick. It was mostly sweat, as my tongue glided across his perfect feet. There were no blemishes, not a single obscurity. They were everything I had imagined and more. In that moment, I busted my load. Straight into my jeans I began to cum as I exhaled deeply and my eyes rolled back in my head. It was the best feeling in the world, the single most orgasmic experience I had ever undergone.
Next thing I knew, Spencer hit me in the face. I fell from my kneeled position, onto the ground.
“Did I say you could fucking cum you piece of shit? I own you now! You don’t do anything without me giving you permission.”
I managed a moan of pain before he had my hands behind my back. I could feel them being tied. I tried to resist, but I was still disoriented from the punch, and Spencer was bigger and stronger than I was. My resistance cracked as he tightened the knot. He Then gripped my feet, and tied them together. As I struggled about on the floor, he completed the motion by hog-tieing me.
He stood up and laughed as I rolled around on the floor. “That’s what I thought faggot. You’re finally in the place you are meant to be. He rolled me over toward the base of the couch and sat back down. He forced his toes in my mouth had me clean each and every toe as he watched the rest of Sports Center.
“Alright faggot, I’m going to bed.”
“But Sir, what about me,” I begged. “You can’t just leave me here!”
“Perhaps you didn’t hear me right earlier faggot. I own you. You are my bitch. You do exactly what I tell you and nothing else. Do you understand?”
“Yes Sir,” I replied meekly.
“Good. Now I have a lot on my plate tomorrow. But I’ll be sure to wake up early and give you a taste of my feet fresh in the morning. Oh, and I’ll be working out first. They should be nice and moist after my morning run. Hey man, don’t run off anywhere why I sleep. Hahaha.” He laughed at my form as I lay on the floor, still hog-tied.
“This is your life now faggot. Every second of every day. You’re mine now. I own you.”
