I welcome responses/input on the story.
My Room Over the Garage By scentslave
The rumble of his truck makes me immediately jump off the king-sized bed in the room above the garage he keeps me in. Grabbing the white towel and white socks off the dresser I run down the steps; already hard. I stand against the wall at the bottom of the stairs. As soon as he walks by me, I drop to my knees. Eyes lowered, I am unlacing his boots when the first smack lands across the side of my head.
"You think I didn't hear how deeply you inhaled when I walked passed you? You think you get free smells around here all of a sudden?" I shake my head no frantically. He grabs my chin but doesn't squeeze it, just lifts it. I know to keep my mouth and eyes closed. He slaps me hard, forehand and backhand, while I continue to remove his boots. Level with his crotch as I am, the serious slaps mixed with the powerful stench of his balls makes my cock ooze.
As I stretch to remove his boot he squeezes my chin; the signal to open my mouth. Instead of spitting, he shoves two fingers in my mouth. I know instantly that he has been scratching his balls; I live for that taste. His calloused hands drive me crazy with lust. I don't dare suck on his fingers the way I would like to. His other boot is now off. His fingers deep in my throat I don't move a muscle but the smell coming from his work socks makes me whimper involuntarily. He laughs. "Go ahead, you fucking fag."
While I am peeling off his damp socks, he randomly slaps my face, pulls on my ears, my hair, and digs his fingernails into the back of my neck. Each new ache causes me to love him even more. He likes to rough me up and I love everything he does to me. I lift one foot and wipe it on my shirt. The smell is perfection. Full on musty, working man feet stench fills the air. I finish drying his feet with the towel. He stretches his leg and digs his heel in as he rests it on my shoulder. "Look at me" he says softly but with great menace.
I will never tire of looking at him. Short, dark, wavy hair crowning the angular face that would be more expected on a European model than a 35 year old factory foreman in Indiana. His body has the natural toning that comes from hard labor and hard fucking. Hands laced behind his head, I can see sweat dripping down from his pits. Even with the sides cut out, the Ohio State football tee-shirt is soaked in his sweat.
He growls, "I said look at me, not my pits, you faggot!" I stare into his eyes. He is smiling now. He is so handsome and he knows I am utterly entranced by his eyes. "I had a great fucking day today, my little buddy. And I am gonna celebrate on your fag face tonight." He stares at me for another second or two, almost without expression now. "Finish!" he barks as he whacks me in the side of the head with the length of his foot. I dry the other foot.
I still struggle putting his socks on, even after nearly a year of doing it at least twice a day. He makes me so excited and nervous that I am always jittery. He doesn't usually hit me while I put on his socks; I guess he knows it will only make it take longer. As soon as his fresh socks are on I am quickly back against the wall. He elbows me in the gut as he goes by. He stops just outside the door, ripping off his shirt he shoves it hard in my face banging my head against the wall. I grab the towel and quickly wipe all the sweat from his torso, front and back. As I start to put the towel up to dry his soaking wet left pit he pulls away. "You want to use that towel or do you want this instead?" He has made a fist. I stare at his fist. It is the essence of powerful. As big around as a fast-pitch softball, covered in throbbing veins accentuated by over-sized knuckles. I am drooling. I close my eyes and present my chin to him. The force of the punch, while far from as hard as it could be, sends me almost to my knees. Bob laughs loud and says "Damn, I sure do loving punching you, faggot. Get up here and get your prize." I recover quickly and slowly rub my face in each of his pits just once each direction. Yes, this is my prize for taking his punch. He pushes me back onto the stairs, grabs the towel, quickly rubs it under his arms before throwing it at me and slamming the door at the same time.
He is gone, but his smell lingers in the tight space. I allow myself a couple of unobserved deep intakes of his stench. One squeeze on my balls and I would cum. I pick up his used socks. Quickly and quietly I go up to my room sniffing his socks the whole way up to my room over the garage. - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - It will be at least an hour before he returns. He will have dinner with his wife and sons. Probably have at least a couple of beers and do whatever else it is he does with his family. I hope no one ruins his good mood. My guess is my evening will be rough enough as it is without him being pissed off, too.
I am shocked to hear the door open again so quickly. There is no time to get to my place at the bottom of the stairs so I quickly prostrate myself at the top of the stairs, face down, palms flat to the floor. I steal a glance down the stairs and I catch Matt's eye. Bob's oldest son is glaring at me. I close my eyes and brace myself. Matt steps directly on my left hand, digging the treads of his boot into me. I love it when they walk on me. He kicks me in the side 4 times each one harder than the one before.
"Get up, bitch" he snarls as he digs his heel into my hand before removing it. I kneel in front of him, head down, eyes staring at the boots I love so much whether I am polishing them with my tongue, removing them to clean his feet, or feeling their power as they kick me and stomp on me.
"Bitch, I gotta piss" is all I need to hear. In an instant I have his cock out of his jeans and my mouth open, presented for his use. He squats a bit until his cock is aimed directly at my mouth. As he starts to piss on me he lifts his fat cock a bit and pisses right into my eyes. It burns a bit but it is one of his favorite things to do to me and of course, I don't complain. Loving his piss as I do, I put out my tongue to catch any that I can. Eventually, he lowers his aim and fills my mouth. As I am about to swallow the first load he shoves his cock into my mouth and grabs my chin wrapping his long, thick fingers around my face. I am full of his cock. I am desperately trying to gulp down his piss. He steps forward his boot until his boot is atop my cockhead.
"That's right, cry, Bitch. We both know that this is exactly what we want. I want to hurt you and you love me for it. So here, faggot. A special treat for you." He pulls back the boot that had been stepping on my cock and kicks my useless slave cock and balls with a ton of force. The involuntary retraction makes me suck his cock deeper into my throat. Piss is sputtering out of my nose. Again he kicks me. I look up at him, thanking him with my eyes; silently begging for more. He jerks his head to the right. I know what to do. I lift my cock out of the way. He rewards me with 3 more kicks direct to my aching balls. I swallow his cock and his piss while lovingly staring into his eyes. He spits on me. The piss is finally drained from him to me. I whisper "Thank you Matt" over and over, very softly. He rubs my head for a second, then grabs my ear and drags me over to the foot of the bed.
"Has my father been here yet, faggot." I silently nod. "Let's see what he's done." I present my chin to him so he can see the mark his Dad's fist left on my chin. "NICE! I think you need a matching one, don't you?" I nod my head anxiously and present the other side of my face for his punch. He teases. He rubs his fist all over my face. Pushing hard, reminding me how powerful he is. His fist is almost as big as his dads but he rarely uses the same restraint that Bob does. I always know when Matt has been punching on me for days afterards. He pulls back and hits me. My head bounces against his knee. I can't help myself. I grab his fist and start kissing it all over. "Thank you, Matt. Thank you so much. Please do it again and again." He obliges. 6 punches all in the same place on my face. I am in heaven.
"What else did he do to you?" I show him the scratches on my neck. He immediately wraps his fingers around my throat. The pressure is intense but nothing compared to his nails digging into my skin. He lowers his face to mine and bites my cheek hard. Next he head butts me, throwing me to the ground. I am dazed, not from pain but from lust.
"Get back up here, NOW!" I quickly hang my head between his knees. "You sure can take some abuse, fag. Life sure is better now that I don't have to take my hostility out on strangers. I sure prefer spending my weekends partying than in the lock-up. Dad was sure right. It's good to have a fag like you around."
He stands up, my face pressed into his crotch. "Take a good whiff, fag." His stench is so similar to his Dad's that I often fantasize that one day they will make me try to guess who's funk is who's. He unbuckles his belt and pulls it out of his pants. I expect to feel the whip of it any second. Instead it is wrapped around my neck. He pulls me back away from his crotch. As he reveals his amazing cock and balls, I whimper. He laughs in my face "pathetic fag". He jerks the belt behind him until my nose is buried in his beautiful, sweaty balls. "Just breath, fag. If I feel your mouth or your tongue, I am gonna beat you til you bleed, do you understand?" He nods my head for me with a quick jerk of the belt. Neither of us moves. I am buried in the stench of his 18 year old jock balls. Slowly, I can feel him tightening the belt. I relax and go with it for him. My nose is completely surrounded by his balls. I have clamped my mouth shut after his threat. It is only seconds before I will pass out. He steps forward, cutting off even the smallest air supplies that remained. This is a smell to die for.
Next thing I know he is sitting on my chest, the belt still wrapped around my neck but a bit looser. My arms are trapped under his legs. He drops the belt. Grabs my hair and starts slapping me over and over and over. He doesn't hold back or make his hand flexible. When Matt slaps me it is like getting hit in the face with a book. We are staring at each other. A warped kind of love and respect is passing between us. He is done slapping me. He plants his jeans covered ass on my face and pivots around. He immediately begins digging his nails into my nipples. The pain is excruciating and I love it. My nose is crushed into the ass of his jeans and his fingers and hands are mauling my chest. He grabs the belt and starts whipping my throbbing cock.
Suddenly, he is off of me. "GET UP!" he screams. "What are my father's plans for you tonight?" I quickly tell him word for word what Bob told me. He chuckles. "Sounds like you are in for it. I'm gonna ask Dad if I can watch. But for now, pull down my pants, kneel behind me with your hands on the floor and clean my asshole, you fucking faggot." I do exactly as I am told. He is digging his heels into my fingertips while I scrub his musky asshole with my tongue. After a few minutes he pulls up his jeans and shoves me to the floor. He sits at the foot of my bed. I immediately crawl to him and start removing his boots.
"So how does one get to be your kind of fag, fag? I mean, I know all fags don't like this shit. The pain, the humiliation, cleaning men's assholes, spending hours sniffing feet, worshipping stinking armpits, taking kicks and punches from men who will never make love to you...how does this happen, faggot? ANSWER ME!" he shouts as he slaps the top of my head hard.
"Master Matt, I never did anything like this until I met your Dad. I saw him changing into his boots one day at work. The sight of his socked foot made my cock hard. I had no idea why. But I stared long enough that he told caught me grooving on his feet. He worked on me for a few days, always finding some opportunity to wrap his arm around my shoulder and squeeze more than a little too tight. After that, he would stand by my desk with his arm planted above me. On the third day, I was looking up at him, dying inside from his beauty, hard from the scents coming off his body, and then a drop of his sweat landed on my hand, I couldn't help myself. I licked it off, right there in front of him. He leaned in and said `I knew it. Bathroom stall. NOW!". I ran out of my office directly to the bathroom. He came in to find me trembling against the wall of the furthest bathroom stall. He grabbed my face, spit in my mouth and raised his hand to slap me. He asked "Is this what you want, fag?" and I nodded. He lifted his arm, showing his soaking wet armpit hair and said "Or is this what you want?" I hesitated. He spun me around and put me in a choke hold. I could feel his sweat soaking into my clothes. "Or is this what you want" as he rubbed his closed fist on my cheek. I suddenly screamed out..."I WANT IT ALL. I WANT WHATEVER YOU ARE WILLING TO DO TO ME. I HAVE NEVER SEEN A MORE PERFECT PERSON. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL TO ME AND I WANT YOU TO OWN ME. I WANT TO SNIFF AND CLEAN EVER DARK DIRTY PART OF YOUR BODY EVERYDAY. I WANT TO FEEL YOUR FISTS, YOUR SLAPS, YOUR KICKS. I WANT TO SUFFOCATE IN YOUR STENCH, BOB, PLEASE FUCK ME UP!"
Matt is staring at me and squeezing his hard cock through his jeans. I have tears running down my face. Not from pain or humiliation but from joy. I have found the perfect place in life. I am the sexual servant to the hottest man I have ever seen and his gorgeous son. And they like doing to me what I like them to do. Smelling their rancid feet and keeping them clean and dry is my job. Being an outlet for their aggression is my job. Reminding them that they are superior beings that deserve to live without any unmet needs is my job. Cleaning their sweat soaked pits with my face is my job. Servicing there cock, balls and assholes is my job. And I get to feel the pure joy of their release as they punch or slap or kick me. I get to push the bruises to make them throb while I wait for their next trip to my room over the garage to use me. I get to sleep on a pile of their dirty underwear with a sweat soaked tee-shirt wrapped around my face, gagged by their steaming socks.
"I really wanna hurt you right now, fag." I beg "please Matt, do it. Hurt me. It's what I live for."
He drags me to my feet and across the room. He plants me firmly against the wall. "I've always wanted to do this. It better not slow you down tonight with Dad. If it does I can't imagine even a sick fag like you liking what will happen to you." Matt is now standing to my side. Like a battering ram, he drives his knee into my quad. I start to buckle to the floor but he straightens his arm and I am clotheslined under the chin, unable to stand but unable to collapse, either. He bangs his knee into my leg 3 more times. The pain is almost unbearable. "Walk, faggot!" I try and my leg collapses underneath me. He starts slapping my face harder than I have ever felt. I stagger to my feet. I find I am able to walk but with a horrible limp.
"There! That should make sure you don't forget me while my father works you over tonight! Now, get over here and finish my feet."
As is my job, I remove his boots, his socks, dry them on my shirt and face. I kiss each one as is his preference. I place the clean socks on his feet and put his Nike Shox on. I am panting from pain and exhaustion. "You really are good at this. Here's a little present." He spits a big hawker onto each of the filthy socks and rubs them both into my face. He is not gentle. He rubs to hurt me and it does. Again, I am crying in gratitude.
"Get up and let me see you try to walk again." I do and it is not pretty. Every step is excruciating. Matt pulls out his cock and starts beating off as he observes my agony. "Socks!" he shouts. I quickly pick them up and stuff them in my mouth as I continue to stagger and stumble before him. He motions me to stand directly in front of him. He scratches his balls and puts his fingers under my nose. I inhale deeply, loving his stench. He leans forward and starts sucking my nipple as he beats off. His fist is flying over his hard white cock. He is now chewing my nipple as if he will get a prize if it comes off. The pain is intoxicating. The fact that Matt actually has his mouth on me makes me so happy. He is sucking, biting, squeezing my tits so hard I imagine he is thinking about one of his girls that he has to go easy on and taking it all out on me. I am so lucky.
He doesn't stop biting me even as he starts to shoot cum all over. It doesn't matter where it lands, he knows it is an honor for me to clean it up. I can smell his load and can't wait to lick it up.
Once again I am shoved to the floor. He shakes his cock off on me. Zips up his jeans and retrieves his belt. "Roll over, faggot." He whips me 10 times and asks how many more I need. I can't answer as I am concentrating too hard on not cumming. "Ok, you stupid piece of shit! No more for you." I cry out..."100 please Matt, please!" He stops putting on his belt and starts whipping me over and over and over with his belt. I am crawling around the room because he likes me to act like I am trying to escape. He just follows and whips. It goes on forever. Tears are rolling down my face and cum is leaking out of my cock. I crawl to his feet and start kissing them over and over as he continues to whip me over and over. Neither of us keep count...and neither of us want this to end.
All of a sudden he stops. I hear the belt jingle. I feel a pain unlike anything I have ever felt before. He whipped me, full force, with the buckle end of his belt, right between my balls and asshole. I shoot the biggest load of my life. I try to collapse onto myself so he will not see. But Matt knows what has happened. He kicks my legs apart and swings his foot with an unbelievable force into my balls.
I have no idea how long I was out. He is gone. Thankfully, his socks are still here. I get Bob's socks, too. I put all four of them on my pillow, surrounded by Bob's tee-shirt and the white towel. There is almost a cloud from all the scents coming off these intimate items from my Master and his son. The charlie-horse in my leg is throbbing. My ass must be bleeding. My back feels like it is on fire. I am used to the hot sting on my face...it is not usually very long between slapping sessions. I bury my face in their socks and sleep very peacefully. Everything is right with the world in my room over the garage.