I was working in the accounting department at an insurance company.
I was 27 at the time. One day as I was sitting at my cubicle, my boss came around to speak to me. His name was David Fisher but he preferred to be addressed as Mr. Fisher. He was in his early fifties. He was tall and handsome with dark brown hair and gray sideburns.
“I need to see you in my office,” he said before walking away. I thought over possible reasons for why he wanted to see me. I stood up and followed him into his office.
“Have a seat,” he said. I sat down in the chair in front of his desk not knowing what to expect next. He closed the door and then sat down at his desk. “It’s come to my attention that you’ve been using the Internet inappropriately,” he said.
“What?”
“Don’t act surprised. I found out through our IT department. You know we keep tabs on these sorts of things. And you should’ve been smarter than this. We don’t have room at our company for time wasters.”
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
“That’s OK because I’m afraid I have to let you go.”
“Wait, I can explain.”
“Save it. The decision has already been made. I need you to clean out your cubicle immediately.”
“But I can’t lose this job.”
“Well, you should’ve thought about that before you started looking up pics of women’s feet online when you were supposed to be working,” he said with a grin and my face turned red. I couldn’t believe how busted I was.
“There has to be some misunderstanding. Maybe someone else used my computer,” I said.
“Do yourself a favor and just leave while you still have some dignity intact.”
“Please. Don’t fire me Mr. Fisher. I’ll never do it ever again.”
“Just go. Don’t make a scene.”
“I’ll do anything. Just let me keep my job.”
“Anything?”
“Yes.” He stared at me for a few moments, which I felt, was a good sign. I could tell that he was thinking of something.
“I’ll tell you what. If you can complete a task for me, I’ll think about keeping you here,” he said.
“Sure. What’s the task sir?” At that moment, he placed his feet on top of his desk and I was afraid of what he was going to ask me to do.
“Well, my feet have been crammed inside these uncomfortable shoes all day and I need them massaged. You think you can do that for me?”
“Uh, I think so,” I said even though I didn’t like the idea of having to pamper another man’s feet. But I didn’t have much choice.
“Good,” he said as he began to untie his expensive leather shoes. As he removed them, I moved my chair to be in a better position for him. I stared at his dressed socked feet and the closer I got to them, the more I could smell them. I wrinkled up my nose as Mr. Fisher wiggled his toes. Then he placed them in my lap and I started rubbing his soles while trying to breathe through my mouth. I worked my thumbs up and down his arches and I could feel how damp they were. “I need you to put a little more effort into it. Remember, your job’s on the line.” I began pressing more firmly with my thumbs as I worked the balls of his feet. “That’s better,” he said. He watched as I worked his tired, smelly feet and he seemed to be enjoying it. After twenty minutes of rubbing his feet, I was starting to get bored as he worked on his computer. “That’ll do for now,” he said pulling his feet away from me.
“So, do I get to keep my job?” I asked.
“Yes, for now. But I expect you to be of more service to me,” he said.
“Yes sir,” I said.
“Good. I want to see you back here tomorrow at 7:00 p.m.”
***
The next day, I showed up to his office. He was sitting at his desk, working. I stepped inside and closed his office door. He stopped typing then he placed his feet on his desk without saying a word as I stared at the soles of his shoes for a minute. “Well?”
“Uh…”
“They’re not going to remove themselves.”
“Right.” I moved in closer, untied his shoes and carefully removed them for him. I set them aside as he rubbed his dress-socked feet together. “Does the smell bother you at all?” he asked.
“Uh, no. It doesn’t,” I said because that’s what I thought he wanted to hear.
“You can be honest with me. It won’t affect your job.”
“OK, well, they do seem pretty smelly sir,” I said.
“I respect your honesty,” he said. I moved my chair to get closer to his feet when he said, “Wait. I want to try something different.”
“OK.”
“I don’t feel like having my feet massaged this evening,” he said. “I need you to be my footrest instead.”
“Your footrest?”
“Yes. I want you to lie down on the floor, under my desk so I can use you as my footrest,” he said.
“Uh…OK,” I said feeling more uncomfortable than before. I got down on the floor so I could lie down under his desk. He then stretched out and placed his sweaty feet on my chest. “This is nice,” he said as he rubbed his feet on me. “My favorite part of the day is when I get to remove my shoes and relax my feet,” he said. The strong aroma of his feet made it hard for me to stay put but I remained under his desk for a full hour while he worked. After a while, he seemed to forget that I was even there.
“I think I’m ready for a massage now,” he said. And as I started to move, he pressed his feet down on me to keep me on the floor. “Not so fast. I still want you to be my footrest.” I didn’t understand what he meant until he turned, moved his chair and placed his tired, smelly socked feet right on my face.
“Sir, what are you doing?”
“I’m using your face as a footrest,” he said. The strong smell made me want to head for the door.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” I said turning my head away.
“Oh, sure you can. You’ll be fine. If it’s too much for you, you know where the door is. But once you leave, you leave for good.” I held my breath hoping that I wouldn’t have to smell his feet for too long. “The choice is yours.” With his socked feet resting on my face, I continued to hold my breath until he began rubbing his toes over my nose and mouth. This isn’t happening. I held my breath for as long as I could but he was practically smothering me. When I couldn’t hold it any longer, I inhaled, taking in the musky smell of leather mixed with sweat. “Hold still,” he said as he used my nose to massage his toes and soles. After twenty minutes of involuntarily sniffing his socked feet, I started to feel lightheaded and wondered how things could get worse. Then I got my answer.
“I think this will feel better with my socks off,” he said which made my heart sink into my stomach.
“Sir?” I couldn’t hide my level of concern.
“Shhhhhhhh,” he said. No please no. Don’t remove your socks, I thought. He reached down and slowly peeled off one of his socks. Then, with his barefoot, he used his toes to slowly remove his other sock. “Ah, that’s much better,” he said. The powerful aroma was overwhelming.
“Sir, your feet really smell,” I said almost in tears.
“Of course they do. They’re feet,” he said with a laugh. “What did you think they were gonna smell like? Petunias? Trust me, they could smell a lot worse.” I was completely helpless as he rubbed his bare, sweaty feet all over my face. He seemed to enjoy making me sniff his toes as he smothered my nose relentlessly, increasing my humiliation. At one point, he rubbed his toes over my mouth until they nearly parted my lips. “This must be embarrassing for you, having to smell your boss’ feet like this.” This is as bad as it’s going to get, I kept telling myself. I could feel his sweat on my face as I took in the vinegary scent of his feet. All I could think about was how much my face was going to smell when he was through with me. And I never felt more humiliated in my life. As his smelly male feet dominated me, I started to get aroused by my own helplessness. He owned me and he knew it. An hour past and then I lost track of time. Eventually, I fell asleep or passed out and woke up to him stepping on my chest with his barefoot.
“Get up. I’m done using you today,” he said. I got to my feet feeling dazed and confused then I dusted myself off. My face smelled like his feet and I desperately needed to wash up. He smiled at me and said, “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” he asked.
“No, sir,” I said.
“Then why is there a bulge in your pants?” he asked and I looked down. I could feel my face becoming hot with embarrassment. And I couldn’t look him in the eye.
“I don’t know, sir,” I said.
“You liked being smothered under my feet, didn’t you?” I shook my head. “Admit it, you get off being dominated by smelly feet, especially if they belong to someone who has authority over you.” As I looked down at the carpet, I wanted to disappear. “The way you were sniffing them, it seemed like you were trying to fight back urges of pleasure. Maybe you find it humiliating to be smothered by a man’s feet and that’s what excites you. Either way, my feet have power over you.” I directed my eyes to his masculine feet. They were only slightly hairy and his toes were neatly trimmed. “I think we’ve made a breakthrough today. Now I want you to get down on your knees and kiss my feet,” he said.
“What?”
“I want you to kiss my feet.” As if being smothered by his feet wasn’t enough. Now I had to humble myself before him. But I didn’t want to. But I knew I had to do it. Or did I? There was a conflict inside of me. And the more I tried to fight, the weaker I became. I reluctantly got down on my hands and knees but it took all the strength inside of me to do so. I looked up at him and he had a smug look on his face like a general tasting victory. And I had to admit defeat. But my pride was pushing back, keeping me from submitting to his will. Somehow, I pushed through it as I lowered my head and began planting kisses on the tops of his feet. “That’s enough. You’re free to go now. But I want to see you back here the same time tomorrow.”
***
As I stepped inside Mr. Fish’s office the next day, I felt nervous. I had a feeling of what he would have in store for me but I tried to block the thought out of my mind. I closed the door and sat down in front of his desk as he worked.
“I’m glad to see you again,” he said. “As I remember, we last left off with you kissing my feet. How did that make you feel?”
“Humiliated, sir,” I said.
“But did it also excite you?”
“It did, sir,” I said.
“Have you ever kissed another man’s feet before?”
“No, sir. I haven’t.”
“You didn’t let your pride get in the way of your need to submit. That’s a good thing. I have one last task for you to complete,” he said. “I need you to massage my feet again.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. I moved my chair to be closer to him. Then I untied his dress shoes and carefully removed them from his feet and set them aside. With his feet still on his desk, I waited for him to move them to my lap. “Now, I enjoyed the massage you gave me last time but it just won’t do this evening.”
“Do you want me to get some lotion?”
“No. I’m looking for a different kind of touch.”
“You want me to tickle your feet, sir?”
“No. That’s not it either.”
“Then what do you want me to do?”
“I want you to massage my feet…with your tongue,” he said and his words hit me like a punch in the chest.
“My tongue?”
“Yes, your tongue,” he said with a grin.
“I don’t know if I can do that,” I said as I swallowed hard.
“You can and you will,” he said. “Now, remove my socks,” he said. I took in a deep breath before I slowly removed his socks, revealing his soft, sweaty soles. He wiggled his toes and rubbed his feet together. They seemed to be a lot smellier than the day before and I felt disgusted. “I want you to get up close and personal with my ripe feet. I want to see you bury your face in them. Sniff them good for me.” I started to feel a tingle in my cock.
“Yes, sir,” I said as I leaned in closer and buried my nose in his stinky toes. I inhaled his masculine odor and took it into my lungs.
“That’s it. Soon, you’ll be addicted to that scent. Keep sniffing.” I sniffed his toes harder and I felt my cock rise a little. “Just imagine how good they’re gonna taste.” His teasing words made my cock rise even more. “Don’t fight it and don’t struggle.” I continued sniffing even though I wanted to pull my head away. But the longer I sniffed, the more submissive I felt. The experience was pure torture. I sniffed up and down the length of his soles, which seemed to please him. “That’s good,” he said and I happily pulled my nose away from his bare sweaty feet. “In a few moments, I’m going to stick my stinky toes in your mouth.” His words made me grimace but I was rock hard. Sniffing his feet was one thing. But the thought of tasting them made me cringe. At that moment, he traced my lips with his toes. Then he said, “Open your mouth.” I closed my eyes and tried to will myself not to open my mouth. Don’t give in. But the scent of his feet had already ensnared me. I was too weak to fight back. I opened up reluctantly and felt his big toe slide into my warm mouth. “Suck it. Suck my big toe like you enjoy it.” I sucked as I was told and I felt a sense of humiliation wash over me. He watched as I moved on to his other toes. I tasted their sweat and swallowed and I didn’t want to think about what I was sending down my throat. I wanted to gag but I pushed on. He seemed to enjoy the smacking sound my mouth made as I sucked his toes. “Good. Now lick the bottom.” I forced my tongue out and glided it up and down his sweaty sole. I tried not to think about what I was putting myself through. But there I was licking the bottom of my boss’s foot like a dog. It was the lowest I could go. “You’ve done such a good job that your reward is, another foot.” He raised his other foot up to my lips and I sucked the sweat from his toes. I cleaned between each one where the salty taste was much stronger. Then I sucked on his big toe for a couple minutes before I moved on to licking his sole. “You’re starting to get the hang up this.” I tongue bathed his feet for over an hour. When they were completely wet and glistening, he rubbed them all over my face to humiliate me further. Then he removed his belt, unzipped his pants, pulled out his erect cock and began stroking it. He stuffed his toes in my mouth and I sucked on them. He continued to stroke as I took both of his big toes into my mouth. “That’s it. Just like that.” I worshiped his feet as I watched him stroke harder and harder for nearly twenty minutes. Finally, he shot out a stream of cum and his muscles began to twitch. After a few minutes, he used his socks to clean up the mess and flashed me a big smile.
He gathered himself and said, “That’s what I was looking for.”
“So I can keep my job?”
“Yes. You can keep your job. But I still want you to serve my feet,” he said. “You are to report to my office everyday before you leave for home. You will kneel before me, carefully remove my shoes and savor the smell of my sweaty socks before taking them off. You will then show your appreciation for my feet by kissing them; sniffing them and telling me how good they smell before licking them clean. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. You’re free to go.”
As I left his office, the taste of his sweaty feet was still in my mouth. I had become his office foot bitch and those memories I could never wash away.
