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<Authoritarian, m/m, high school, feet>
SERVANT TO A SOCCER STUD CHAPTER 27
It was a few weeks before Thanksgiving. The soccer season was in championship mode. Between that (being co-captain of the team), taking the SATs, and applying for colleges, Kyle was stressed out. Three days before the county championship, Kyle told Brad to summon Tommy to spend the rest of the week with Kyle. Remember, Tommy and Brad were in college two states away, but Brad understood and readily agreed. That Tommy had to skip a week of classes didn't matter. He had to quickly finish a bunch of schoolwork for Brad, ignore his own, and get on the road from Pennsylvania toward Virginia within six hours of Kyle's order.
When Tommy was about half an hour away from the Petersons' house, it was two days before the county championship, Kyle had just finished practice, and I was already completely naked at the foot of Kyle's bed doing my usual lip and tongue gymnastics on Kyle's beautiful size 11.5 post-soccer feet. I was there to be Kyle's de-stresser. For his part, Kyle was also completely naked, and casually playing with himself, getting pretty hard, and enjoying that perfect state of relaxed but aroused comfort -- that euphoria where you're not close to cumming, but the blood is definitely filling your shaft, as you touch, and grope, and caress the various parts of your penis and scrotum whenever you please, while your obedient slave is making heavy mouth love to the pleasure receptors on your feet, all the while thinking about just how superior you are to the poor faggot who is not allowed to touch his own throbbing penis in your presence, much less reach climax. Every so often, Kyle would let out a moan or a groan, and I would shudder and melt at just how sexy Kyle's deep voice sounded. Hearing Kyle's euphoria heightened my own happiness and sense of self-worth.
As one of Kyle's toes disappeared into my mouth, my hands reached up to massage Kyle's legs. While I loved doing these tasks, they were not altogether easy. Think about massaging someone's legs even for five minutes; you get tired pretty quickly. But after over a year of servicing Kyle, my arm muscles had gotten fairly in shape and "in stamina." Of course, nothing beat the workout that my mouth muscles have been getting. I think all the mouths put together in my school have not been used as much as my one mouth had in the past year. Yeah, I'm pretty sure of that.
My contentment was indeed profound at that moment. There was nothing like the stink on Kyle's post-soccer jock feet. All that concentrated goodness found nowhere else on the planet. I reflected on how lucky I was to get Kyle's feet straight from the source. And the ease and frequency with which I could have my private masturbatory sessions with Kyle's sweat-soaked socks. You foot fags out there who have never actually experienced your porn fantasies play out for real, I feel sorry for you. Imagine if you had constant access to a young stud as incredibly good looking and in perfect jock shape like Kyle -- his feet and his socks -- you would give up your life to have that. With Kyle, I was giving up my life for him, but he was also realistic enough to let me function normally most of the time, as I wrote about in a previous chapter. It made our arrangement work, and I am so happy with it.
Then, a knock at the door.
"Get the fuck in here, faggot."
Tommy entered, dropped his bags, and immediately fell to his knees. "Greetings, Master Kyle. Thank you so much for commanding me to skip school for a week so that I could be here to serve you. You doing well in soccer is 1,000 times more important than . . . ."
"Shut the fuck up, fag, and get your ugly face over here."
Tommy crawled closer and got his face into perfect slapping position. < SMACK >, followed by at least 10 more slaps, hard across Tommy's face. In between each slap Kyle laughed and snickered and sneered and unleashed some variant of "shit stain", "dumb fuck", "gay-tard", and "cum dump". Tommy didn't flinch and kept his eyes fixed on Kyle the entire time. Brad had slapped Tommy so often by now (going on 2 years) that Tommy was well trained. With each slap, Tommy offered his face up for abuse with even more steadiness and eagerness. It was taking "thank you, sir, may I have another" to a whole new level. Tommy focused not on his own pain, but on making sure he was making it as easy as possible for Kyle to dish out slaps and enjoy himself.
Tommy later told me that the key was not to be merely reactive to the slaps; rather, Tommy had learned to anticipate the exact moment his master's hand would strike his face, and then stretch the receiving cheek ever so slightly but firmly to meet the slap. Not too much, because that could offend master as diluting the tyrannical authority of the slap itself. But just enough to facilitate master's reach and rhythm, and to show the fag's appreciation in being slapped. Like a dog slithering for a belly rub, except this was no belly rub. And don't forget that Tommy, now 20, is being slapped around by a teenage boy. Completely humiliating, but Kyle was such a man-god that the situation had become perfectly normal. And my own perverted DNA? I was already hard from kissing Kyle's feet; I was now harder seeing Tommy get slapped.
After Kyle decided he was done slapping Tommy, he ordered, "Well? What the fuck are you waiting for, bitch? Get all you clothes off, now! God, what a stupid faggot." What was Tommy waiting for? For Kyle to be done slapping him!
Even though still dizzy from the hard slaps, within seconds Tommy stripped to complete nudity and returned to his knees at the side of Kyle's bed.
"Cunty, stay on my right foot. Shit stain, start making out with my left."
Then, "The county championship is in two days, and one fag just ain't enough. We gotta win. So you two fucktards are gonna help relax me, using your queer mouths and hands. Day and night. You're both gonna sleep on the floor until after the game. If I wake up in the middle of the night with a hard on, one or both of you are gonna blow me until my cum ends up down your throats. Followed by my rank piss. And if we lose, I'm gonna blame you, and take it out on you. Got it?"
"Yes, God," I said, while Tommy said, "Yes, Master." Kyle glared at Tommy. "Yes, God, I mean, Yes, God, God, God, you are my God. I am so sorry," and then Tommy proceeded to bang his head against the hard wood of Kyle's bed to punish himself.
"Enough, you're useless to me unconscious, you dumb fuck! Get back to my feet." With that, Tommy and I spent the next thirty minutes pleasuring Kyle's feet and legs. With two mouths, two tongues, and four hands, Kyle started to receive what he was looking for: double the pleasure. Kyle sighed and moaned and groaned heartily throughout. Eventually, one or both of us was gonna be lucky enough to put our sucking skills to Kyle's magnificent manhood, but for now, only Kyle's own hands and fingers could touch it -- a tug here, a jerk there, a fondling of the balls here, a casual caress there.
At one point, "Tommy, get over here." I thought maybe Tommy was gonna get slapped again, but no, Kyle said, "Tommy, you see that? On the tip of my cock?"
Tommy croaked, "On my God, God, yes, Your precious pre-cum. It is a divine gift, my Lord."
"You wanna taste it, faggot?"
"Oh my God, yes, it would be my total honor and privilege to swallow whatever fluid comes out of your incredible cock."
"Yeah? What about cunty? You jealous, cunty?"
"Yes, God. You are exercising your Godly prerogative to make me jealous, and I genuinely feel jealous. You know I would jump to swallow every drop of your pre-cum, cum, piss, and sweat if I could ...." The trick was to balance two things: express the emotion (here, jealousy) that Master expected me to express, without expressing any anger at Master for causing me to feel that emotion.
"Then eyes up here, cunty," as Kyle scooped up the dollop of his precious juice with his finger and stuck it in Tommy's waiting mouth. Tommy then sucked the finger hard to ingest as many molecules of the Kyle pre-cum as he could, also as a way of showing his deep appreciation for the heavenly gift. Then Tommy hurriedly returned to Kyle's left foot. With his next dollop of pre-cum, Kyle made me look at him again, but he simply scooped it up and wiped it on his bedsheet and laughed.
"See that, faggot? Poor thing, you want to taste my pre-cum so bad but instead I just wipe it away, 'cause to me it's worthless, but to you it's priceless. What a gay fuck." Even the way he said "What a gay fuck" was incredibly arousing for me. The prefect mix of derision and disdain.
With all that pleasure being lavished onto him, Kyle was still not close to cumming. This is a stud, after all, he has the stamina to stay hard for quite a while without climaxing. Even at 17, Kyle's puberty was advanced. Gemma was so lucky. I'm sure her pussy got stimulated for hours with Kyle's massive cock. Kyle was lucky, too, because the sustenance of his aroused state meant he could feel good longer, especially with the aid of now two faggots' mouths and hands.
Speaking of Gemma, Kyle had another plan he was ready to implement: "Anyway, Tommy, your loss for not getting here sooner. I'm sure Connor already mouth-washed the post-practice stink off my feet before you got here. You're a greedy little faggot, aren't ya, Connie?"
"Yes, God, I am instinctively drawn to your stink and just had to inhale it, as much of it as possible."
"You just 'had to', huh? Is that how you think this works? You just do whatever it is you 'have to' do?"
Uh-oh. "I, I ... I'm so sorry, God," as a redoubled the intensity of my French kisses on the bottom of Kyle's right foot. I was met with a swift kick to the face.
"Clearly, I have not trained you as well as my brother has trained shit stain over here. I have been way too lax with you, and you have been taking way too many liberties. Clearly slaps and kicks aren't working." Then, on his phone after a few seconds, "Yeah, hey Gemma, it's me. Get over here. Yeah, now, bitch."
Now, it had been a few months since Gemma and I serviced Kyle together while I was wearing all that make-up (Chapter 23). Gemma did not figure out who I was that day, and during the maybe half a dozen times since then when we served Kyle together, my identity remained concealed. You may be wondering why Gemma (surely she was curious) didn't just demand (either of him or of me) to reveal my identity while we were both there. But by these occasions, both Gemma and I knew that it was all about Kyle whatever Kyle wanted, on whatever timeline Kyle preferred. If Kyle didn't want Gemma to know for sure that I was his fag slave, then Gemma was not going to defy Kyle's wishes.
On one of those occasions I didn't even wear the make-up, or a mask, and Kyle simply chose night-time, pulled down all the shades, turned off all the lights, and I was at his house first, hiding in Kyle's closet (literally) so that when Gemma arrived, she couldn't see me. Only in total darkness did I then crawl out of the closet, and I was at his feet while his monster cock was fucking Gemma's pussy or the two of them were making out. After Kyle climaxed, I snuck out unseen while Gemma stayed the night in Kyle's bed. So I was confident she never even caught a glimpse of me.
But now Gemma was coming with the lights on, and Kyle showed no signs of hiding anything.
"Yeah, cunty. I'm gonna out you today. Since it's just to Gemma, it might not actually matter that much. But it does -- because I'm the one getting to dictate the terms of you coming out. Not to a Brad or a Tommy, but to someone in our school now, who you have to see all the time. No, for now, she won't tell another soul because I will order her not to. But if we break up? Or she decides not to listen to me after a while? Then yeah, bitch, you being gay might not be a secret any more. And worse, you being a sub faggot freak might come out, too."
Tommy just kept his head down, dutifully and enthusiastically kissing and sucking on Kyle's left foot while Kyle said those words. Tommy had experienced all this before, because Brad had long had girls over with Tommy there without any disguise. Plenty of those girls had seen Tommy around campus or were in classes with him. Tommy had long lost control of who out there might know who he really was.
But I was not in the same boat. This was a major turning point for me. The possibility that Kyle could out me was always in the back of my mind, but I thought there were certain sacrosanct boundaries in our arrangement. Kyle used the publicity of my servitude as a threat, but I thought that was just for teasing. Now, all of a sudden, turning that threat into reality was dawning on me as moments away from happening. I loved our perfect arrangement and yes, just told you that I was willing to give my life to Kyle to keep it going, but all my focus all of a sudden turned to my parents and family finding out about my "situation". I flinched.
"Kyle, no. I can't do that. If Gemma's coming over with me out in the open like this, then I have to leave." Even Tommy froze hearing that.
After but a few seconds of tense silence, Kyle hopped out of bed in all his naked glory, his pulsating hard cock standing straight up, and he walked over to me. I was still on my knees, even though I had said I was leaving. Master Kyle towered over me.
Kyle snickered, "Oh, really. You really gonna say 'no' to all this?" Kyle made a slight gesture with his hand, advertising his magnificent masculine body.
I bawled out crying (real tears -- caused by a combination of fear of losing Kyle to the even greater fear of Kyle beating the living daylights out of me), grabbing and hugging Kyle's hairy legs, and pleading with him, "Please, Kyle, please don't do this. I love you so, so much, and want to be here for you forever, but, but ... if my parents find out..."
"If your parents find out, then what? Who are you really, Connor McGinnis? You can claim that your reality is in that world of your family, of school, of your future, but isn't you being a sub fag to me just as much your reality, even more so actually? If this is not what you truly want, no, if this is not who you truly are, then why the fuck have you been here day and night for the past year?"
"I ..."
"No, shut the fuck up, fag, seriously. Even if your parents do find out, they are merely finding out your core truth. But you leave now, and you are never going to live your truth with me again, ever. Oh, and I don't need you. Just look at Tommy here. I can find another Tommy or another 'you' easily. I am everyone's type, so basically any gay guy is going to fall head over heels in love with me just looking at me. Most gay guys are already sub-ish by nature, all the more so to a straight guy, and all the more so to a straight and young jock stud like me. But you need me. There is only one 'me'. So I am going to give you one last chance. Either you walk out of here now and never, ever get access to 'all this' again, or you spend the next year apologizing to me, and SERIOUSLY making it up to me, for the severe transgressions you've committed just in the last 5 minutes."
Somewhere in the middle of that speech, I had stopped crying and released my arms and body off of Kyle's legs. I bowed my head down, and started planting kisses on the tops of Kyle's feet, adding "I am Yours, God" and "I am sorry, God" and "You own me, God." Wow, that was all it took for the pendulum to swing right back to where it started. Go back and read Chapter 1 if you still don't get it. The way Kyle easily teased my faggotry out of me, the speed at which I was falling to my knees, massaging his feet, chewing and sucking his crusty socks, and lunging for his perfect bare feet with my nose and mouth. My DNA was unshakable, even in the face of all my concerns. Kyle used the right word -- "core". My core truth was to be a homo servant to a straight soccer stud. All other consequences from that core truth cannot change the core truth. I should have been, and was, deeply ashamed of my 5-minute diversion contradicting my core truth. I knew Kyle was going to make me pay heavily for, as he said, my transgressions, and I deserved every bit of his punishment.
Kyle sighed, flicked my face away with his long and strong toes, and hopped back onto his bed. "Good, cunty. Because after all, I could out you any time I want anyway. But you're so fuckin' stupid you didn't even think about that, did you? Haha. You think that you can suddenly stop being my servant and that erases all the faggoty perverted things you've already done? You stupid cunt. Hahaha. No really, you dumb excuse for a human being. Now you've completely disrespected me and pissed me off, two days before my big game, when you were supposed to help me de-stress, not make me more stressed. So all you bought for yourself is that I'm going to be much, much, MUCH meaner to you going forward. I hope it was worth it, BITCH." Even though Kyle said words that sounded angry, he was smiling and laughing, totally content at the fact that he was finding renewed reason to make my life a living hell.
"God, your wisdom and brilliance no know bounds," as both Tommy and I re-engaged fully in the passionate worship of every piece of manflesh on Kyle's incomparable wide and high-arched jock feet.
"Shut the fuck up, fag."
Then there was a knock at the door...
TO BE CONTINUED ...