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<Authoritarian, m/m, high school, feet>
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I have a sort of warning note at the beginning of Chapter 20 regarding the contents of this series.
SERVANT TO A SOCCER STUD CHAPTER 24
I looked up at Kyle in all his naked glory, light brown hair, piercing blue eyes, hairy jock legs, just spent semi-hard cock -- the whole package. I never tired of gawking at Kyle. I could feel myself salivating again, making the taste of the remnants of Kyle's still-fresh cum in my mouth even more pronounced. It didn't matter that I was, as usual, on my knees, this time wearing a bra, a wig, and make-up, along with those high heels the entire time I was servicing Kyle.
Kyle continued to speak, "Just so you know, we're gonna be playing dress-up a lot more often now. I mean, you are going to. Haha. How does that sound, faggot?"
Instantly recognizing that whenever I am in this state, I was required to make my voice go 2 octaves higher, I replied, "It sounds like an amazing treat, an incredible gift, from your generosity to me, Master Kyle. I can't wait to serve you in the way that maximizes your pleasure."
"No, it's more than that, faggot," Kyle corrected. "See, why do you think I chose Pride Month to initiate you like this? Because you're not proud to be gay, are ya, fag? Your only source of pride is to be my faggot. You wish you were my girl. So why not turn you into one? If you were really a girl, you might have even had a chance with me. But you're not. So I'm doing you a huge favor by letting you imagine you were a girl in my presence, so you can be proud of that, fuck face."
"Yes, God," I croaked. I knew "God" was a title Brad had commanded me only to use on him, but in that moment, there was no doubt in my mind that Kyle was my God. He had the power to turn Adam into Eve, and he did just that.
"So yeah, start stocking up on the dresses and the panties and the lipstick and the rest. I don't want my bitch looking the same every time. Got it, cunt?"
"Yes, God," I replied again. I was still rock hard and dripping pre.
"Speaking of cunt," Kyle continued. "You need a girl's name. Your boy name is Connor. You looked so slutty that I was going to name you Candy but then I thought of something better -- Cunty. That's your new name. When you're a girl, I can still call you whatever the hell I want, shit stain, but if you had a passport, it would say Cunty McGinnis. Got it, fag?"
"Yes, God," I repeated.
"All right, Cunty. Now put your panties back on, I don't want to see your faggot dick anymore." I obeyed. "Now lick my feet completely clean." I obeyed again, licking up the lipstick and make-up covering Kyle's feet until they were spotless. "Now go fix your hair and make-up in the bathroom, here take this lipstick Gemma left here." Not sure what Kyle had planned, but I did as he commanded.
In the bathroom, I tried to fix my make-up by rubbing it evenly on my face. The lipstick smears that had gone all over my face was helping keep my cheeks blush, I guess. I didn't have more eyeliner, but I did reapply Gemma's lipstick. Then readjusted my wig. I looked at myself in the mirror, with the bra and panties on. Yup, I had turned into Cunty.
When I returned to Kyle's room, he said, "Now, Cunty. Start making out with my feet again. Really French kiss them. I can't get a real girl to do what you do, so I want the next best thing." Now, when I am making mouth love to Kyle's feet, there is only one mode I apply: all out, go-to-town, wanton passion, reckless abandon. So I wasn't really going to do anything different. But Kyle's point was simple: combine fag lust with a girl's appearance. Yes, for him that would be new.
So I did. What I did and what I always do with Kyle's feet could rival any of the most intense mouth-on-mouth make-out sessions. Kyle's feet could not kiss back, but it didn't matter. The intensity of my kissing made up for it. When Kyle told me to stop, he bent his leg and looked at the bottom of each foot. Covered in lip-shaped red. Kyle made me take photos of those feet. Then he lay on his stomach and said, "Y."
So there you go. Cunty could be operated by the same remote control as Connor. If you recall, "Y" was "Kiss Kyle's ass all over." So I performed that duty, leaving more lip shapes on Kyle's ass -- which he also had me photograph.
"Now Z, cum breath." Z: "Eat Kyle's ass like there's no tomorrow." Did that for at least 20 minutes, with all the requisite sniffing and licking and sucking and kissing, along with inhaling Kyle's farts as usual.
When he was satisfied, Kyle sat up and pushed me off the bed back onto my knees. He looked at me, smiled, and said, "Good job, Cunty." Although he had cum maybe 30 minutes ago, Kyle was at full mast again. My rimming technique was just so fuckin' pleasurable. Then after like a 20 second pause, I knew what was coming. With his left hand on my head, he started slapping me with his right. "Yeah, you did such a good job, you gay fuck." SLAP SLAP. "You made Master feel so good." SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP. "You like being my girl, Cunty?" SLAP SLAP SLAP. "You like being slapped after you've worked so hard to make Master Kyle happy?" SLAP SLAP SLAP. It was hard to answer and answer in a high-pitched voice while being slapped, but I did my best, mixing in the "Yes, Master" and "Thank you, God" and "I'm sorry, sir" -- so that I was not disrespecting Kyle for not answering his questions. I don't think Kyle ever thought about hitting a real girl, but he could hit me. And hitting me in the form of a girl gave him another power trip, I suppose.
After his last slap, Kyle moved his right hand to his 8.5" cock but kept his left hand holding my head in place. In less than a minute, Kyle spewed another load of jizz all over my make-up covered face. I'm sure some got on the wig. Kyle snapped another 3 photos of his blow face painting. (Technically, I did not blow him for this load, but Kyle often called this finish a "blow face painting" so I will use his terminology.)
Kyle sat back again, this time really spent.
"Get to it, fag."
You know the ritual. Rubbing my cum-covered face all over the bottoms of Kyle's lipstick-covered feet, with the long hair-covered toes and high arches, then eating the magical concoction down my throat one warm and tangy glob at a time. My favorite thing to do with Kyle's cum. My reward for being Cunty for a day.
After Kyle's feet were once again spotless, he grunted his usual, "Now get the fuck out of my house, you stupid queer fuck." I hurriedly put my dress back on and sneaked out of Kyle's house.
TO BE CONTINUED ...