"When you get home come directly to my house. I have plans for you," is what Ransom had said before he left the locker room. He had said that last part so seductively that I remembered it word for word. It even gave me a boner every time I thought of it. I'd always dreamed of being invited over to Ransom's house, which was a three story dream home complete with pool area in the back yard (did I forget to mention that his parents were rich and by extension so was he?), but now as I started over to his house I grew nervous, shaking with both anxiety and excitement.

 As I stepped onto his well kept front yard I realized his car wasn't in the driveway, which meant he wasn't home yet. He must've still been at baseball practice. 

     Now I wasn't sure what to do. I didn't know if his parents were home and I was too afraid to go over to the garage and peek in to see if their cars were there. If they answered the door, how would I explain that I couldn't talk because I had their son's nasty gym sock in my mouth? So I did the most logical thing my brain could conjure up; I sat on the curb side at the edge of his yard and waited for him to come home. I must've been sitting their for at least an hour before his shiny white Porsche pulled into the driveway and parked. When Ransom got out of the car, I could tell from where I was sitting that he was sweaty, his red and white baseball uniform dirty and ruffled. 

     He looked across his yard in my direction and gestured with his head for me to follow him inside and up to his room. As I entered his house I was startled beyond belief at how elegant and chic it looked. His father was a big time lawyer and his mother was a top selling real estate agent so their house mirrored their income. I was afraid to step anywhere, worrying that everything in the house probably had more value than the entirety of my house across the street. 

     I followed Ransom up stairs to his room where he threw his baseball bag to one side and then flopped on to his bed, letting out a huge sigh of relief.

     "Hey fag!" He said finally, giving me one of his infuriating yet sexy smiles. 

     "Wait do you still have my sock in your mouth?!" I couldn't speak so I just nodded my head as he laughed hysterically.

      "Man that's gotta be gross as fuck! Spit that out already." I did as I was told and removed the sock that was coated in my saliva from my mouth. Ransom couldn't help but smirk. 

     "There, all better faggot?" 

     "Yes Master," I said without pause, remembering his rule to only address him as such from now on. As Ransom lay sprawled out on his bed, his cleated feat hanging off the side, I noticed he was looking me up and down as if I were something he was inspecting to see whether he wanted to buy it or not. 

     "Strip down." Again I did as I was told, removing my shirt and pants, as well as my shoes. When I was in only my underwear and socks, Ransom told me to stop undressing and get on all fours. When I did so, he started to move his cleats up and down off the side of the bed

     "Man my feet are killing me. Why don't you crawl over here and take these cleats off for me fag?" I crawled over and began removing his cleats, being ordered to smell the inside of each as I removed them. The scent emanating from his sweaty dirty cleats  had me instantly horny, my dick growing in my pants. 

     As I leaned forward towards his socked feet, I received a quick kick to the side of my head.

     "Did I say you could start sniffing my feet yet faggot?" 

     "No Master. Sorry Master." I couldn't believe how much control he had over me.

I watched his white sports socks, the bottoms dirty and slightly brown, bounce up and down off the edge of the bed, each time wafting their smell towards my face which was only a few inches away. The smell was divine and it took all of my willpower to not dive forward and bury my face in his dirty socks, kneading my face in his feet and licking every drop of his sweat from the fabric.

     "You are such a faggot." I snapped out of my trance long enough to respond.

     "Yes Master," I agreed.  

     "I'm sitting here with my nasty ass feet just inches from your face and you can't focus on anything else."

      "No Master."

      "Do you want these sweaty sports socks on your face faggot?"

      "Yes Master," I said immediately.

      "I knew you did. Go for it fag." With the go ahead, I practically launched myself forward, diving face first in his dirty sweaty sports socks. I completely lost myself. The smell was intense, like they were after gym but magnified ten times. I licked up and down the soles of his feet, grabbing at the fabric with my teeth and feasting on the sweat. An hour passed by in silence with me worshipping every inch of Ransom's perfect feet, but to me they were only minutes. 

      "Take my socks off with your teeth faggot," Ransom said finally. Quickly I lurched upwards and started pulling his socks off where they rested up his calves. When I had pulled both socks off, Ransom told me to hand one of them. As I did, he told me to

open wide and then shoved one of them in mouth, leaving some of it hanging out. He then told me to place my nose between his toes as he took out his phone and took pictures. He told me they were his insurance policy in case I ever acted up, but I barely focused on his words. I was in heaven with the sweat between his toes bombarded my nostrils.

     The rest of the evening I spent worshipping his bare feet, for four hours straight! When I made the remark that it was getting late and I needed to go home, Ransom kicked me in the face and said,

     "Don't you get it you stupid fag? You're spending the night." That sounded good to me and when Ransom decided he was ready for bed, he took off his baseball uniform and even let me sniff and lick at the now stale sweat of his shirt. As he got in bed, he told me to bring his socks at which point he wrapped one over my eyes and one over my mouth so I couldn't see and so I could taste his sweat all night. He then ordered me to lay at the foot of his bed under his covers. As I did so, he placed his bare feet in my face and told me to thank him for allowing me to sleep with feet tonight. I tried my best to say thank you master but his sock gag made it difficult. 

     And as I laid there in the darkness beneath the blanket, with his sweaty sports socks covering my eyes and mouth and his big soft size 12 feet on my face, I fell asleep knowing that this was where I belonged. This was my new life; I was Ransom's new slave.