It was a sweltering summer day when John received an unexpected invitation from his friend, Mark, to visit Mark's father's house. Mark’s father, Mr. Smith was a preppy, manly, and dominant man who commanded respect wherever he went. John on the other hand was thin and shy.
As John arrived at the Smith residence, he was greeted by the sight of Mr. Smith lounging on a beach chair, his feet propped up and covered in sand. The manly aroma of sweat and the beach wafted through the air, and John's heart raced with anticipation.
'John, my boy! Welcome to my humble abode,' Mr. Smith boomed, extending a handshake that John could barely match. 'I hope you're ready for some fun today!’
'Thank you, Mr. Smith. I'm looking forward to it,' John replied, trying to keep his voice steady as he eyed the sandy feet.
'Well, let's get started then. Mark, show John around the place while I get comfortable,' Mr. Smith instructed, settling back into his beach chair.
As Mark led John through the house, John couldn't help but steal glances at Mr. Smith's feet. The sandy toes, the sweaty soles, the musky scent - it was all too much for John to resist. He discreetly pulled out his phone, hoping to capture a few candid shots of Mr. Smith's feet.
Unfortunately for John, his luck ran out when Mr. Smith caught him in the act.
'Did you just take a picture of my foot? Are you some kind of foot freak!?' Mr. Smith demanded, his voice booming through the house.
John's heart sank as he realized he'd been caught red-handed. 'I-I'm sorry, Mr. Smith. I just couldn't help myself. I thought you wouldn’t notice.'
Mr. Smith's eyes narrowed, and a smirk played at the corners of his mouth. 'Too bad for you, I can see you for what you are, a faggot who’s in love with my feet? Well, I suppose I can make use of that. From now on, you'll be my personal foot fag. You'll worship my feet, lick them clean, and do whatever I say. Is that understood boy?'
John's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he knew he had no choice. 'Yes sir, I understand.'
'Good. Now, get over here and start massaging my feet with your tongue. And don't you dare stop until I tell you to,' Mr. Smith commanded, his voice dripping with authority.
John hesitantly approached Mr. Smith, his heart pounding in his chest. He knelt down before the manly feet, taking a deep breath to steel himself for the task ahead.
'That's it, boy. Show me how much you love my feet,' Mr. Smith taunted, wiggling his toes in John's face.
John tentatively reached out, his fingers brushing against the sandy skin. He could feel the heat radiating from Mr. Smith's feet, and the scent of sweat and sand filled his nostrils. With a deep breath, John leaned in and began to lick the sweaty soles, savoring the taste of the manly feet.
'Attaboy. Get every wrinkle with your pathetic tongue faggot. Show me how much you love my feet,' Mr. Smith continued, his voice a low growl.
As John worked on Mr. Smith's feet, the man picked up a newspaper and began to read, completely ignoring John's efforts. John felt a mixture of humiliation and arousal as he continued to worship the sandy feet, his tongue darting in and out between the toes.
After a few minutes, Mr. Smith decided to finish some work. 'Hey, John. I need to make a phone call. While I'm on the phone, I want you to suck on my toes. Don't stop until I'm done with my call.'
John's heart raced as he reluctantly complied, taking Mr. Smith's big toe into his mouth and sucking on it like a tootsie pop. Mr. Smith smirked as he dialed the number, enjoying the sight of John servicing his feet while he conducted business.
'Hello, this is Mr. Smith. I need to speak with Mr. Johnson regarding our recent business deal,' Mr. Smith said, his voice stern and authoritative.
As Mr. Smith spoke on the phone, he continued to wiggle his toes in John's mouth, forcing the foot fag to work harder to keep up. John felt a mixture of humiliation and arousal as he sucked on Mr. Smith's toes, his eyes watering from the effort.
'Yes, Mr. Johnson. I understand that there have been some delays on your end. However, I expect you to honor our agreement and deliver the goods as promised,' Mr. Smith said, his voice firm.
As Mr. Smith continued his conversation, he whispered to John, 'Fag, you should be grateful to be at my feet. I deserve this, make sure to get all the toe jam out of a real man’s feet. Worshiping my feet like this, sucking on my toes - it's disgusting. But I have to admit, it suits foot fags like you.'
John felt a mixture of shame and arousal as Mr. Smith insulted him, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He continued to suck on Mr. Smith's toes, his eyes downcast as he tried to ignore the man's cruel words.
'Mr. Johnson. If there are any further delays, you'll be hearing from my lawyer,' Mr. Smith said, his voice cold and threatening.
As Mr. Smith hung up the phone, he turned his attention back to John, who was still sucking on his toes. 'That's enough, boy. You can stop now.'
John reluctantly released Mr. Smith's toe from his mouth, his lips swollen and his face flushed. He looked up at Mr. Smith, who was smirking down at him.
'You did a good job, boy. But I think it's time for you to take this to the next level. I want you to use your face as a footstool while I finish reading my book,'
John hesitated for a moment, unsure if he could go any further. However, the thought of pleasing Mr. Smith and proving his devotion to the manly feet was too much for him to resist.
'Yes, Mr. Smith. I'll do whatever you say,' John replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
Mr. Smith smirked as he placed his sandy feet on John's face, using him as a makeshift footstool. John felt humiliated and happy as he supported Mr. Smith's feet, his face pressed against the sweaty soles.
Finally, as the sun began to set, Mr. Smith finished his book and released John from his footstool duties. 'That's enough for today, boy. You've done well. But remember, you're my personal foot fag now. Is that understood?'
John nodded, his eyes downcast as he tried to process the events of the day. 'Yes, Mr. Smith. I understand.'
'Good. Now, get out of here and don't come back until I summon you.' Mr. Smith warned.
John nodded again, his heart racing as he made his way out of the house. As he walked down the street, he couldn't help but feel a mixture of shame and arousal, his mind consumed by the manly feet and the cruel words of Mr. Smith.
