Good morning,
Master Ian used to be my friend. More than that, my brother. Granted we were only step siblings, but we really had a strong bond like real brothers. That all changed when I turned 18, he was 24 at the time. Our relationship started to get rocky after he started to mature. He grew up playing football, once he got to high school he had a near perfect body with built muscles and jock like features.
I am not sure where it all changed, but as of today, I am his slave. Any task or duty he orders me to complete, I must with no hesitation. This usually includes worshiping his feet in some capacity, especially after football when he was the smelliest.
Once I turned 18, he told me about a website he found. People post videos for others to buy, mostly of people being dominated by a master or mistress. Master Ian’s first video was him forcing me to lick his cleats clean. I was recorded eating dirt, sucking spikes, and even licking the insole. The video nearly made him 1000 dollars. So, he was making videos left and right, with my suffering being the main attraction.
The next video idea was probably my most humiliating experience to date. Master Ian came up to me at around 3 pm, I was in the basement doing his laundry.
“Faggot, I got you a present” He said. He then threw a black cloth at my face. I picked it up and saw bright red lettering that read:
I LOVE SMELLY MAN FEET on the front,
FOOT SLAVE on the back.
Master Ian saw the terror in my face, he began laughing and explaining my next task. “I am going to drive you around town today while you are wearing that shirt. I am going to pick out random men and record you begging to smell and lick their feet. If they say yes, you are to do exactly that. If they say no, well at least I’ll have footage of you humiliating yourself. This is going to go big on the website!”.
I was almost brought to tears, the thought of asking strangers to worship their feet brought shivers down my spine. I already struggled with the stench off of my brother’s feet, so I cannot imagine the type of men Master Ian is going to pick for me. Even worse, I cannot imagine the men who are going to say yes.
Master Ian stuffed me in the back seat of his truck, right next to his smelly football cleats and gear that probably haven’t seen soap since the beginning of the season. Our first stop was to a park with a popular running trail that goes through a forest. Even with the shade, the Texas heat made you sweat just standing there.
We parked and Master Ian quickly jumped out of the truck. He threw my door open and ordered me to get out. I was trembling in fear, begging him to just take me home.
“Please Master, please just take me home. I do not want to be seen in public like this. I will do anything else for you, please do not make me do this” I muttered, crying as I pleaded for some leniency. In retaliation, Master Ian grabbed my hair and delivered a strong slap across my face, followed with a massive loogie to my right eye.
“I don’t care want you want, faggot” he growled. “This video is going to make me thousands, and it's going to be at your expense. Hundreds of people want to pay to see you humiliate yourself and suffer under manly stench”.
I started crying again and Master Ian burst into tears. “Sick what you faggots will pay for. The loser who gave me the idea gave me 2000 bucks just to produce it. Can you believe that? 2000 dollars just to watch you make an idiot of yourself”. Master Ian was almost brought to tears with laughter at this point.
I realized I had no other choice than to obey my master. When has there ever been an exception? Once I step out of the car, he slaps me again and calls me a “good little faggot” as I lay my head down. We then start walking into the woods, we go about half a mile in before Master Ian picks out my first humiliator.
He looks to be in his late 20s-early 30s, about 6’1 one and definitely the body of a runner. The guy is taking a break on a bench, and to my dismay, he is drenched in sweat. Master Ian orders me to approach the man and beg him to worship his feet.
I slowly walk up to this stranger and when he notices me, he gives me a weird look: “Can I help you with something?” he says. I cannot mutter a word before he reads my shirt. “Smelly man feet? What the fuck?”. Master Ian, seeing that this person is not buying it, walks in and explains how I lost a bet, and my punishment is asking random people to smell and lick their feet.
I am hoping for some sympathy from this person, but then my dreams are crushed as he begins to laugh and look back at me. “Damn! That is some punishment. Are ya going to ask me to smell my feet? I do want to warn you, they are pretty bad. These running shoes are about 3 years old, and I didn’t get a chance to do laundry yet so…these socks are a few days old too”. He begins laughing again. “Come one! Ask me to smell my feet, loser!”.
Once again, I realize I have no other choice than to follow the order given to me. I approach this man slowly, and sheepishly ask him “Sir…can I please smell your feet?”
“What? I couldn’t hear you!” He says sarcastically, with his hand up to his ear.
I say louder: “Can I smell your feet, sir?”
“Hmm…I didn’t hear a ‘please’. I work hard on my feet, they deserve the common decency of a ‘please’”, he goes on, continuing my humiliation.
At this point, Master Ian is once again brought close to tears from laughter. He is thoroughly enjoying my humiliation, cracking up as I am trembling before the feet of a complete stranger. I feel like I am losing all humanity, I have no sense of control in my life anymore. I truly did not have any agency, and there are people profiting from my suffering. I did not fathom anyone being so sadistic.
I turn back to the stranger, bow my head, and mutter “Sir, may I please smell your feet?”.
“That is more like it! Of course you can smell my feet. I hope you like them extra smelly, these old shoes really do create something evil. Even my dogs run away when I kick off my shoes after a run, but maybe your nose can help take out some of the stench”.
I cannot believe this is happening. A total stranger is going to make me smell his dirty socks and feet. This person is going to torture me, and is getting a kick out of it. I almost begin crying again as I get down on my knees and begin unlacing his running shoes. He starts to wince as I lift up his leg.
He cuts me off and points down to the ground. “Lay down on your back and then take off my shoes. My legs hurt from running and I want to keep them planted. Hope your face is comfortable!”.
I lay down on the gravel path and slide my body under the bench with my head sticking out. “My name is Greg by the way, I don’t need yours as I can see it's ‘Foot Slave’”. I forgot that it was written on the back of my shirt. He then places his dirty shoes on my chest and flexes his ankles so I can see his soles. I see a small “12” circled in the center of each sole, indicating the size.
“You can just slide them off, don’t undo the laces” Greg says with a smile. With a slight tug, I remove each shoe to reveal two socked feet inches away from my face. He has thick black socks, so I can see little patches of sweat around the toes, arch, and ankle. My eyes start to water up as I begin to gag.
“I warned you they were stinky! Now, let me ask you again, do you want to smell my feet?”.
I really do not. I just want to go home and return to my normal life. I want to go back to school and have friends again. I want to have a life where I am not at the command of sadistic assholes trying to make a quick buck. Yet, here I am, under this stranger’s disgusting socks, I have no other choice but to submit to my suffering.
“Yes, sir, please may I smell your feet?”
Greg lets out a booming laugh,he kicks his legs up and holds his arms to his chest.
“Since you asked so politely, yes you may smell my feet!”
The next thing I see is two sweaty monsters slowly start to descend down onto my face. The stench gets worse and worse as his feet get closer. Soon enough, Greg plants his feet onto my face and lets out a sigh.
“Ahh, this feels so good. Your breath is really cooling off my feet; breathe harder between my toes”.
He then clamps his toes around my nose, I feel drops of sweat go up to my nostrils along with a putrid stench that invades my senses. I start to cry once again as a total stranger dominates me with his feet.
“How you doing down there buddy? Feeling queasy yet?”
I mutter out a yes, hoping he will put an end to this. Once again, my dreams were crushed.
“Aweeee, that's too bad”. Greg says sarcastically. “I thought I was going to feel bad making you do this, but my feet have never seen better treatment. Your face makes such a good massager. I am going to keep them on a little longer if that is okay?” he asks, as if I have a choice. He then starts to slowly rub his feet back and forth on my face, treating himself to a massage.
This has been going on for about 10 minutes before Master Ian chimes in. “A foot massage would be a lot better without socks!” Greg then perks up with a smile drawn across his face.
“Great idea! Foot slave, take off my socks and really get between my toes”.
I am shaking knowing it’s about to get a lot worse. I peel off Gregs socks, they come off with ease as they are still drenched with sweat. He then hovers his soles over my face, there are black spots all over and in between the toes from the socks. The stench is horrible as expected, Greg knows this but offers no mercy. His bare soles are now planted to my face as he resumes his foot massage from earlier.
“You were right, this is so much better. Hey foot slave, breath hard between my toes again, the cool air really does feel great”. Greg then shoves my nose between his big and second toe, a deep inhale brings me to gag under his feet.
“Ah jeez man, again sorry, but I warned you they were rank. I want to feel bad but you were the one that asked for it!”.
He is right, I did ask for it, but I wish he knew the truth. I was being forced to do this, Master Ian was truly an evil person who wanted to see me suffer. Master Ian came up with the losing a bet story to make it seem like we were friends, that this was an agreed upon punishment. If only Greg knew the truth, maybe he would show me some sympathy.
Master Ian decided to chime in again with another sadistic idea. “You know slave, this foot massage would be a lot more bearable if Greg had clean feet. Why don’t you ask him if you can lick his feet”.
At this point, I wanted to vomit. I have no idea who this person is, and I was about to ask to lick their feet clean. I have no idea where they have been or what was about to go into my mouth. All I knew, it was going to be disgusting. Greg then turned his feet so he could see my face, waiting for me to ask the dreaded question.
“Greg…” I gulped, I mean “Sir”. “Sir, can I please lick your feet clean?”.
“Only if you promise to get between the toes” Greg said quickly before he was brought to laughter again. “I also hear that sock fuzz is zero calories! That's a plus!” This comment made Master Ian laugh as he zoomed in on my terrified face.
I slowly stick out my touch and reel as it makes contact with his foot. I am gagging once again, Greg once again does not care. He forces his foot a little closer to my face as I sheepishly drag my tongue across his sole.
The taste is unbearable, Greg manages to calm his laughter to say “Don’t forget our promise!”. He then forces his toes up to my mouth, prying it open to get to my tongue. I shake as I stick my tongue between his toes, making sure to get all the toe jam and sock lick jammed in there. It takes me about another 15 minutes to lick Greg’s feet clean. After that, he lifts each foot one by one to inspect the job I did.
“Pretty good job. Now do you think we can continue the massage without any other interruptions? I told my wife I will be home soon”. Before I can even utter a word he shoves his feet back into my face and presses hard. It definitely is a little more manageable since I was able to get most of the smell out, but the humiliation of the task was still there. I had a total stranger rubbing his feet in my face for his pleasure.
This lasted another 10ish minutes before Greg finally took his feet off my face. He ordered me to put his socks and shoes back on and thanked Master Ian for the massage.
“It really felt good man, really do appreciate it”.
“No problem!” Master Ian said. “Too bad you have to leave so soon, I definitely would have let you keep going on”.
“Damnnnn” Greg said with a little disappointment. This quickly changed as he had another idea.
“How long does this punishment last? I would love to use the Foot Slave again, maybe even some of my friends would love a massage too” He laughs, pointing back at my depressed face.
“We did not really discuss it that far, but I guess it is my choice, right slave?” Master Ian then gave Greg his cell number to call whenever he wanted another foot massage.
“This is awesome!” Greg says with excitement. “I should have more freetime next Saturday. Foot slave, I will definitely see you soon”. I get up and Master Ian takes me back to the truck and shoves me in the back again.
“On to our next destination!”.
