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I was struggling between jobs this summer in Colorado.
I live in a town of about 110,000, and its a pretty conservative environment. What I got myself into definitely didn't fit into the dynamic of the scene, but then again who ever really knows what can happen and where.
I got a part-time job working for a low-key political group whose primary goal was to keep watch over the local city council. I was doing what they call canvassing. I would go door to door and ask folks if they wanted to become a member of the organization. It was a pretty big undertaking, so they hired about 15 people to do the canvassing. There were people from a wide variety of ethnicities...some young and some middle aged. There were a couple of really hot young guys that seemed like they were in college, and trying to make some spare cash for partying. We would typically go out in pairs or threes for safety and efficiency, and there was a lot of walking to do. A whole lot of mid-summer super sweaty and tired feet walking!
I have always liked feet. I mean as long as I can literally remember (like age 5)I had an attraction to feet. I long ago stopped trying to find the reason why I liked such a thing. As I got older and gained knowledge and experience, I really tweaked out what I liked about feet and had a pretty good reason why by the time this part time job came around…a part time job that ended up being full time service for me as a lowly foot-boy to two very hot, very young, and very arrogant guys that saw an opportunity to get themselves a foot-slave and jumped on it.
I always thought I kept my peeks and stares and looks to a real mellow, discreet, and unnoticeable formula for the fullest enjoyment of the many displays of hot feet during the summer months in my hometown just 1.5 hours South of Denver. I am a bisexual male in my 30's and have had only female relationships but had the liking for male feet actually. The paradigm of foot fancy that I subscribe to works only with males to get the most out of what I believe to be the bottom line of the whole foot thing.
Ok this is what I mean. Feet are of low status. Feet are historically dirty and smelly. If you find yourself at someone's feet then you are most likely in some sort of submission or lower state than they are...I know you guys know what I mean so I won’t keep trying to explain this. Bottom line for me is that if you are a foot-boy, then you are serving the feet of someone who is more powerful, good looking, or wealthy than you. Yes there are people who like to be foot-slaves just because they like feet so much, but the kind of foot-boy I am is because someone or some people have power over me. They have power over me, and because of that they demand that I should kneel before them and service their feet. The ultimate yummy concept of power to me is when someone comes across me, and I did them wrong in some way or somehow. Maybe I was rude to them, or I fired them. Maybe they just don't like me and feel so superior to me that they want to get the pleasure of coming up to me laughing and slap me smartly only then to tell me that I belong at their feet groveling, kissing, licking, smelling, or just being held there with a sweaty powerful foot mashing my cheek into the ground. My face would then get ground into the floor by a warm sweaty vinegar touched foot by a tall and athletic young white guy with a big dick and even bigger attitude who tells me how fucking pathetic I am and also makes known that I should be so apologetic and afraid of what he is going to do me. I should perspire with a torrent of sweat produced by frantically trying to fix whatever it was that I had done to him only to get further informed by the placement of the other big, sweaty, and humiliation-ready foot on my forehead with a strong arch that it’s to fucking late for all that regret and apology shit. I fucked up, and now I have made my life very uniquely complicated. Shoulda, coulda, woulda...yeah well that's all pretty moot right now. My mistake plus the fact that I was born void of any of the qualities that inherently lend power, prestige, and status are the palpable indicators that I will not be enjoying the spoils of being the placer of lesser men at feet. No way! Whether I like feet or not, I am going to be living a very humiliating existence overflowing with all things feet and all that comes with service to the feet of the one I somehow did wrong or crossed or were just so un-fucking-lucky to cross paths with.
It seems as though I had run across some of the power types, but just wasn’t aware of it yet. It won't take very long before I become the little canvasser guy who rubbed wrong the last two guys that I should have. Brendan and Lucas were a couple of 18yr old California transplants that decided to try school in Colorado and reap the rewards of Mother Nature's snow sowing in the Colorado High Country. They were cocky white boys with awesome tans and just looked like some light weight bad boy types. I say light weight because they didn't look like complete bad boy losers, but rather intelligent gutsy guys with enough bad boy in them to make them really cool and popular with the ladies.
Popularity with the ladies sprang from the rebellion inherent in bad boys but more for a trait that most white bad boys seem to possess. It has been my experience that bad boy types are always very well endowed. Such is why they are never short on boyfriends, or girlfriends. Oh yeah and lets clear this up real quick...bigger is better. Period. Being well-endowed is such a revered thing. It is the stuff that means most...anyone who tells you different has a little one and doesn't know any better. This type has heard the ocean motion saying and thinks it's true and his savior from spending all his time wallowing in little league of cock.
Okay, anyway, you get the point. I started being assigned with Brendan and Lucas all the time. It didn’t take long before I started fantasizing about what these hot young studs had beneath the belt and inside the Nike Cross Trainers they were usually wearing for our assigned walking routes. We would spend about 5 hours walking, so you know that was more than enough time to make some nice hot and sweaty feet that would just love to be massaged. I started paying a lot of attention to the two, and always made sure I was on their crew. I was going crazy wondering when I would get to catch a glimpse of some tan topped and super white bottomed white boy stud feet...size 12 both of them! They just looked like that type of white boy that tans really golden from a base white that is pretty stark white. These types of guys (girls too actually) tend to have the type of feet where the tops are golden tan and then transitions to an awesome creamy white sole.
I finally got an idea of what Brendan was packing. We happened to both have to piss real bad and our only option was a quick whip out, so we wouldn't get seen by any kids or ladies or the like. True to the typically expected (being white and bad boyish) Brendan had a big fuckin dick. I was so fucking jealous, and he knew it. My stare was not covert enough and lasted way too long, so that not only did he know I was lookin but also what I had. I always wondered how he knew that I was looking out of jealous amazement rather than homosexual liking. It probably, however, ended up adding to the power I perceived him to possess.
Lucas was easy to gauge. He had a bulge so big and a seemingly always semi-hard outline, that easily showed he also was working with some nice machinery south of the border. Two good lookin white boys from Cali with big dicks and very affluent parents...could it get any more cliche? Maybe not, but that's how it was and how it usually is when someone gets turned into a foot boy slave servant.
The days were coming to an end for this job, and I was constantly fantasizing about two more than likely straight guys. I began to feel as if they were beginning not to like me as much anymore because they ultimately realized that I was quite a bit more intelligent than they were, but I was also 20 years older than they were. They just didn’t like being second in smarts or anything for that matter. They started teasing me about my age, height, and baldness. They knew they had me there, but not in intelligence. I could tell that they definitely now considered themselves to be above me.
After Brendan had seen my little dick, he didn't mind the intelligence gap. He made it a point to always maneuver conversations to girls where having the big dick was the game-ender every time. Lucas was still oblivious to my lack of endowment, but I sure saw that he had a way bigger dick than I could ever wish for. Always these young guys get so lucky to have a big cock. Properly used in the proper hands, a big thick white boy dick could do wonders for a guy's life. Promotions, pleased partners, admiration, respect, and fucking pure unadulterated power!
The shifts started to just melt into the next when I finally got to see what these hung guys were working with in the foot dept. I was hoping that they weren't going to be all jacked up seeing as they had everything else! Just as I had envisioned, they both had them really tanned tops and creamy soles that almost seemed like a California Blonde Person Trademark. We had stopped to take a rest one day, and they just started pulling off shoes and socks and I went into a sudden speechless trance. I was so close that I swear I could almost feel the warmth and smell moist vinegar feet… the kind of foot vinegar that is just enough to say “feet”, and make a good humiliation but not to the point where the paint would start peeling from the walls.
Again I got caught slipping and Lucas was like "what the fuck are you staring at Dave? Are you fucking staring at my feet you fucking perv fag boy”? My heart stood still and I didn't know what to say. "Brendan did you see Dave staring at my feet like he was in a fag weirdo trance?" Brendan said, "Maybe he's a foot freak or fetish guy or whatever the fuck they call them!" Lucas replied, "Nah he was strait staring like if he wanted to make love to them! You want my feet bitch, you like guy's feet you fag?" I said that I was just lost in a thought of something and that I did not have any perv feet things for guys, girls, or anything. I totally lied through my teeth, and he fucking knew it. It wouldn’t be long though, and I was going to like, love, and lick his feet whether I liked it or not.
The next shift I got us all in trouble because I left early and didn't tell anybody in my crew, so they were fucking livid with me. I thought a few times I was going to have to fight these two young studs. Turns out they were just waiting for me to fuck up again. They weren't going to take any chances with their standing in our organization by trying to start a fight with me. Instead they would patiently watch and catch me slipping a third time and record it all for a good ol' classic episode of the age old show Blackmail!
The next time I worked I got bored again, and decided I would leave early.
I was not working with the two studs this time, so I thought I was in the clear. I guess they had been following me from the start of our shift. Apparently they had followed me all the way to my house with camcorders in hand because all of a sudden I heard a knock on the door and opened it to see Brendan and Lucas standing there with ultra-white toothed wicked grins of pure power. They pushed their way in and said that I probably should get them something to drink, and do it fucking quickly. I was like fuck that and was about to turn around and ask them to leave when Lucas asked where I was today.
I told him that I was working and he said "bullshit fag footboy! You went straight here, and we got the video to prove it." They both sat down and put their feet up on my coffee table in almost perfect unison. "I think you better get off your lazy work-dodging ass and see about those drinks slave!" Lucas yelled. I asked them what they wanted and they said they both wanted some cold water, so I quickly gathered the water and went to sit on my lazy boy when Brendan said for me to sit on the floor because that was going to be his lazy boy recliner from now on.
Once I sat on the ground as he ordered, they both began to tell me how things were going to play out. I felt so small and helpless having to stretch my neck to see over their shoes. I would never have to worry about seeing over their shoes again. My eyesight would never travel any further than what was simmering inside those shoes for the rest of the summer and on into the winter.
The situation I found myself in was far more than just getting caught playing hooky from work. The young hung stud boys from California were just a bit cleverer than I had anticipated. You see I had found a way to funnel funds from the Political Non-Profit into a series of pre-paid debit cards that did not require an SSN for validation. When the boys saw that I was skipping work but still enjoying a posh if not modest living they must have really went to town on the Wheaties, Red Bulls, and an insane numbers of Google searches. The dynamic hung duos at the ripe age of 18 had picked my operation apart, and were ready to either get everything they thought deserved or see me taking up residence at one of Colorado’s finest institutions of higher criminal learning: The Colorado Department of Corrections.
Everything was starting to make sense to me. The looks on their beautiful chiseled faces, the increasing curt attitudes they were taking with me, and the way they were both staring at my crotch were all key indicators that they were ready to break things down to me. You could almost cut the excitement in the air these two would be Sherlock with Big Cock Holmes were bleeding from every pore in their well-maintained bodies. The only thing that had managed to escape these two future big cock foot masters was a simple little truth. The two studs already possessed everything they needed to exercise their God-given right to drop me to my knees in service to their feet, dicks, or whatever the hell they wanted to at any given moment in any given location on planet earth. They had the looks, the attitude, and the essential big, thick, beautiful cock, so the dirt on my crooked capers was really of no fucking consequence.
After presenting all the dirt to me and watching me puke several times through their presentation, they said it was time for the good news. Wow what good news it was. Not for me anyway. They said I was now in only one position. That position was to give them all the profits I had made, saved, or would make. That was just the beginning. It was made as clear as 2 sets of size 12 feet, that were freshly sweating sickly sweet vinegar from the pores up and down the soles and in between the almost perfectly shaped toes, were shoved very aggressively toward my face that I was now a foot-slave or a foot-boy, or as they would often call me in the future, a little-dicked foot bitch.
These boys had actually done some serious web surfing about foot fetishes and the people that have them. It was painfully clear that they actually correctly interpreted my bogus statement about just zoning out for what it really was. They now knew that I was in a zone alright. A zone of pure focus on the feet complete with an element of drool and the start of a chub in my pants. I felt really naked at that point. There was no hiding from the fact that Lucas and Brendan, two hot well-endowed young guys, knew that I was into feet and had been staring at their feet that particular day and who knows on how many others. I knew they couldn’t know exactly what it was about feet that I liked and fantasized about. There was just too many facets of foot fancy for figuring what this freak liked about em. No doubt though they had pretty much narrowed their search to include obvious interests involving domination, servitude, and how they involved feet. The boys did real a good job, but I would venture to guess that the info was already a part of them. Most very well-endowed men have a natural tendency to dominate little dick dudes and the ones I have been dropped on my knees in front of, always made little dick dude smell, kiss, lick, suck, massage, clean, and groom their sweaty and sometimes filthy sock linted feet. They seem to have this instinctive drive to always tower above their prey and shove or otherwise smash their bare feet quite aggressively into its fearful and always profoundly jealous face.
That’s exactly what Brendan and Lucas were starting to do. They both had settled in their seats and finished off their drinks I had served them, when Brendan said that my name was no longer Dave. I was foot-boy, foot-slave, or little dick foot slut. I was never to call myself by any other name than what they had just said. I was to address them as Master Brendan, and Master Lucas…mostly just master. I was to do everything they said. EVERYTHING. No questions. If I wanted to stay out of prison, it was going to cost me very dearly, and I was meant to serve anyway they told me. I was told that I could thank my genes for the pathetic little dick that I had. That little dick and my obscene foot fetish and constant desire to actually be made to smell feet that are fresh out of shoes, were factor numero uno primo for my position as a lowly rodent beneath the feet of just about every guy on the fucking planet. I swear that even your average sixth grade boy has a bigger penis than I do.
Anyway now that we pretty much have all the necessary environmental constructs and reasoning out of the away, let us proceed with how far Brendan and Lucas had decided to take their blackmail of me and how long they were going to be making me their personal foot and cock servant. Master Brendan snapped his fingers and said that his beautiful perfect size 12’s were very sweaty and smelly since he had decided to drop the socks in order to really make me know what I means to be dropped to my knees and made to smell a master’s filthy sweaty feet in full aromatic servitude. The smile that Master Brendan got on his face after ordering me to smell, not kiss, not lick, not suck, just on knees with nose right in the moist crease of a real man’s big sweaty toes taking deep nasal breath after nasal breath smelling of his dirty lowly feet was something of pure bliss…intoxication.
He asked me rhetorically I’m sure what it smells like, what it’s like to be made to smell a man’s feet because that man said so. Because that man has everything that you ever wanted, but will never have.
Quite simply put: The boy or man that has a bigger dick than you has the right to make you kneel down and suck his cock or smell his feet, or both. Most of the time, almost 95% of the time, the lesser little man smells feet and nothing more. I told him it’s so humiliating and smells like vinegar feet. He just laughed and told me to keep smelling until the odor has been smelled off his feet and up my nose. When I am done doing that, I will then start cleaning his entire foot with my tongue starting off by licking the sole from heel to toes in continuous motion.
He told me that if my form was not deemed acceptable to him, he would go for a walk around the block barefoot and make me start from scratch. I totally believed his every word, and I made sure I was paying meticulous attention to the details and contours of my master’s awesome foot. These two guys actually had some of the best feet I have ever seen on males, and I have honestly seen many, many, many feet in my life. They are my life; I am constantly scanning my field of vision for feet. Summer come back! Please!
It wasn’t but after about 10 seconds of me smelling Master Brendan’s meaty size 12’s that he started pressing his foot hard against my face. It seemed as though with each hearbeat my master had his foot was shoved against my face with increasing authority. I could hardly breathe. Every breath I took was through my nose as he had ordered and all I could smell and taste was a young hung studs creamy white bottomed foot sweat. He was totally enjoying his position over me…so much so that his crotch started to swell…his massive semi soft cock coming to life and filling his jeans like I would forever wish mine would do.
“I bet it must really suck to have to sit on your knees while another man almost half your age rubs his sweaty foot all over your lips and nose while all you smell is his nasty sweaty big toe crease. I bet you wish the tables were turned. Wishin you had what it takes to put a man down to become your pathetic foot smeller. I can’t wait to tell all my friends what I have…to make you serve me like a total slave while they all watch and laugh at this poor little dick footboy scramble for air underneath my powerful feet!”
The more he told me how pathetic I was and how much I am totally beneath him the more his big dick was running out of space in his jeans. He grabbed me by my hair and all of sudden pulled me up from the floor where his feet had already made shiny red impressions in my face and on the back of my skull where he was now standing tall over me with the one hand pulling up on my hair against the weight of his fucking perfect foot. “I love the way this feels Lucas! Wait until you get to feel what this is like.” I had all but forgot about the other master reclining like a god with the cold beverage I had served him gripped firmly in his hand. “I have to admit Brendan…seeing you totally dominate this little bitch turned me the fuck on…I can’t help but think that he literally has no fucking choice whatsoever. Either he serves us on his hands and knees or we send a nice little package to the feds and his ass is one a one-way non-stop to federal prison…no good time, no early parole, just getting fucked in the ass on a daily basis prison!”
Lucas’ words sent Master Brendan over the top. He yanked me up from my floor seat at feet and had me straight eye-level to one button and a long zipper. He started to grind my face into his crotch, the button pelting my lip and the zipper catching my lip on every tooth. He started pulling my hair hard straight back and then pulled my face away from his throbbing dickhead. Even though I was only up against the head of this master’s hung cock for a microsecond, I could feel all the power driven adrenalin and excitement by the pulsation of the blood flooding into that more than of fucking course perfectly shaped cut monster. Once he pulled back to about a foot away from his jeans, he slapped me cold and icy right across the cheeks instantly sending the sharpest stinging sensation I ever felt. He then laughs and says “I can’t fucking believe I don’t know whether to make footboy undo my jeans with his teeth or pull it out myself and shove it so far down his throat that then does he truly know what a big cock is…truly gasp for air on what he will never ever be able to pull out proudly in front of a woman who wets her panties at even just it’s total limp softness.!” “Fuck Brendan!” Lucas shouts as he now has fully pulled out his totally stiff beautiful cock and is stroking it rapidly muttering “footboy, foot slave…just wait until I put u at my feet!”
By the look on Master Lucas’ face he was going to make me suffer in every humiliatingly possible way that he could. I was almost starting to fear for my physical safety. These two built bad boys were on fucking nitro fuel right now, and were getting more and more aggressive and physical by each punishing minute that seemed like eternities. “Make him take it out with his teeth, so you can grab his head with both hands and squeeze the little footbitch’s head like the little pimple he is!” Lucas shouted with a sinister grin. With that Master Brendan said “time to show you why you’re really on your knees smelling feet.
Undo my jeans and uses both of your little girl hands and pull my dick out slowly, very slowly. I want to see you counting how long it takes to pull my big dick out of these pants and feel what it’s like to have a dick so big and thick that girls have to wrap both hands around it. Pull it out and just sit there and stare at it. Stare it at it silently until I decide whether or not to make you kiss the head and shaft and my balls before I start slapping you silly with it. Actually I think I will shove it your mouth and so far in your throat that you pass out from not being able to breathe.
It was all talk. Once Master Brendan had his big dick out, he slapped me across the face with it and snapped his fingers, pointed to the floor where his feet were waiting, and snapped “footboys don’t get the pleasure of and privilege of a master’s cock until he’s been smelling feet for a long fucking time!” He shoved me back down to the floor with one foot and held my face mashed to the cold tile. It was not but seconds later that the other foot found my face and I was back on my knees bent over awkwardly at the waist while his dirty smelly feet crisscrossed my face stopping only to make sure my nose got planted in the crease as master Brendan repeatedly ordered me to smell his big feet. “Smell, don’t you dare lick them footboy!” Master said sternly.
“Just think that when I am finished with you at my feet. You get do it all over again with Lucas. Every day all day serving our every need and worshipping feet…serving at the feet of two real men that you were so pathetically unlucky to cross paths with and piss off…let alone have them catch you breaking the law and now able to blackmail you into complete and utter domination at their feet for god sakes…You know what really makes this awesome footboy? Well answer me!”
With my self-respect long ago drowned in built bad boy foot sweat and a mouth still full of sock lint from when Master Brendan first shoved that sweaty size 12 he made pull from some totally beaten down Chuck Taylor’s, I could only meekly say “what makes it awesome master? Master Brendan chuckled and used his feet to grip my face and make me catch his eyes that said it all. He squinted and sneered “its so much more awesome because you are so jealous of your masters and you can’t do a damn thing to stop it, and you fucking know it. Any way you slice it, you know down deep inside that you totally belong right where you are! Now tell me where you belong and say it loud and clear!” With that command barked to me he pulled out a mini digital recorder and recorded with crystal clear quality my response to him. The only response I could give…”I belong on my knees serving Master Brendan’s and Master Lucas’ sweaty stinky feet because I am forever jealous of them.
Master Brendan clicked the recorder and played my humiliating admission over and over while he made me kiss both feet, rub lotion all over them, put them in clean socks, put them back into the worn and faded chucks, and lace them all tight and snug.
He got up from my lazy boy recliner he had taken from me and stuffed his thick cock that was still twice as big as mine even though it was now totally soft back into his pants and fatsened them up. He looked at me while still on my knees, and just shook his head and gave a superior chuckle. No sooner that he had left the front room did I hear him talking to Lucas. He played the sound bite to him and they both laughed.
After a few more words were exchanged, the house went silent save for the unmistakable sound of flip-flops slapping against a moist foot. A few more moist slaps and the sound became deafening. I knew it was my mind amplifying the sound because I knew this sound all too well. This was the sound made by feet that had spent a good 8-10 hours in flip flops in the last of the super sunny days. The next thing I heard was the super deep and tough voice of Master Lucas. This just-turned 18 year old California Surfer Boy Model Lookalike let me know just how much homework on footboy service he had done when he stated very rhetorically that I knew exactly what sound his feet were making. They were making the sound made by feet in flip-flops for 8-10 hours on a super sunny day. He also totally knew that I knew that these feet were going to be super black, dirty, and smelling perfectly vinegar for some pathetic footboy to service.
My service to Master Lucas was about to begin.
