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<Authoritarian, m/m, high school, feet>
SERVANT TO A SOCCER STUD CHAPTER 4
I was only a few sentences into thanking and praising Master Kyle's cum -- yes, his cum -- before I heard the now all-too-familiar, "Shut the fuck up, fag."
So instead of speaking, my mouth went back to faithfully undertaking the exercise of chewing and swallowing Kyle's cum that my face had been transferring to his feet. Unlike last time when Kyle's cum simply went down my throat, this time I could really pay attention to Kyle's cum, its color, texture, viscosity, smell, and of course, taste. Unsurprisingly, I was starting to fall in love with it. I think I even shuddered at the explosive realizations now hitting my brain cells, that I wanted to do everything I could from now on to get to eat Kyle's cum as often as possible. If at that moment you asked me to name something more delicious that I had ever eaten in my life, I could with 100% sincerity not be able to name a darn thing. Beyond that, I really have no words to describe Kyle's cum. It didn't taste like strawberries or chocolate or steak; it tasted like Kyle. And that was all that mattered.
When my saliva had thoroughly replaced Kyle's semen on his feet and my face, about another ten minutes later, Kyle kicked me in the face and said, "All right, now get out, faggot. I'm gonna shower and eat breakfast." As I walked down the flight of stairs, I paused to look at some of the family photos along the wall. The photos including Kyle's also-very-attractive older brother, Brad, now a sophomore at a college out-of-state, made me think, "I wonder what Brad would do if he ever found out about this new arrangement I had with Kyle." My phone said 9:57am when I walked out Kyle's front door without saying a word to Kyle's mom.
When I got home, I ran upstairs to my room and shot my load within two minutes. This clearly was what I wanted. It was who I am. That afternoon, I went to the supermarket to buy cucumbers that were as close to the length and girth of Kyle's cock as possible. I couldn't think of a way to have Amazon ship a dildo to my house without risking the whole family finding out, and so the cucumbers were the only thing I could think of to practice deep-throating. And I started to constantly look at Kyle's lettered list of 26 services on demand. When my eyes closed as I went to bed for the next several days, I would go through the list multiple times in my head to lock it in good.
The week was otherwise quiet. I saw Kyle at school during classes, but didn't talk to him. He obviously had a life, but also a sudden influx of my appearances at his house might arouse suspicion. As we were walking out of U.S. history on Thursday, however, Kyle grabbed my arm. "Hey, I got a game today, and I'm gonna head over to your house right after. Be ready." Before I could respond, he walked away. Thank goodness my sister had some drama club rehearsal, or else I was gonna have trouble making sure she was out of the house when he came by. And my parents would be at work still, not that they were the type to barge in to my room when my door was closed. I was a good kid, and they trusted me. In their wildest imagination they could not have imagined me becoming a servant to a soccer stud, a boy their son's age whom they had known for years.
I walked in the door right before 2:30pm, went upstairs, and quickly tidied my room. I had homework to do, but I couldn't focus on it at all. Instead, I did the homework Kyle assigned, eyes glued to his remote control "list" with a cucumber stuffed down my throat. Yes, I looked totally ridiculous, but was already hard as a rock. I also made sure to have an ice cold drink ready for him on the nightstand.
At just after 4:30pm, the doorbell rang. I ran downstairs and opened the door. Kyle looked hot as hell, his piercing blue eyes making me weak. He was still in his game gear, unshowered and completely sweaty, holding only his gym bag. He closed the door behind him. Since no one else was home, I instantly dropped to my knees, bowed my head down to the floor three times, kissed the tops of Kyle's cleats, and said, "Welcome, Master Kyle. Your servant is ready to please you and pleasure you as you see fit. Thank you for what you're about to do to me, sir."
"Good faggot. Let's go upstairs." He walked, I crawled behind him, and made it up to my room. Per usual, I closed and locked the door. Kyle dropped his gym bag on the floor and plopped down on my bed. I stayed on my knees the entire time and waited for his command.
He drank from the drink I prepared and also noticed that I had left my copy of the list next to it. He picked up his remote control and ordered, "D, bitch." Letter D was "Take Kyle's shoes off and sniff the insides of them, hard."
"Yes, sir." I scurried to Kyle's cleats, unlaced the left one, pulled it off Kyle's foot, and immediately put the warm inside up to my nose, inhaling deeply, very, very deeply. I went out of my way to make very loud breath sounds so Kyle could hear how much effort I was putting to the task. The stench was so pungent that others would have passed out. But it was so wonderfully masculine and sexy and intoxicating to me, I loved it, and remembered to add, "Master Kyle, this is just incredible. The smell of your game-worn cleats is getting me all hot and bothered. And that's because I'm a foot fag, your foot fag."
"Sniff harder." It was an impossible request, since I was already breathing so hard that my nostrils hurt, but I tried, breathing completely out, so that my next breath in could be longer and fuller. I then repeated Letter D with Kyle's right cleat. Kyle, for his part, decided to play with his phone while continuing to take sips of his drink. And so while I kept spewing a torrent of new and creative statements flattering him and debasing myself, he pretty much ignored me, laughing if he found something funny he was reading on his phone.
Then came his next command, "A and G, now." Hmm, I guess in all my memorization, I had not accounted for the possibility that Kyle would combine different letters together. But I didn't dare take any longer than I already was trying to figure it out. So after I put down his shoe, I made the very courageous decision to take his right sock off. This was very risky because neither A ("foot massage") nor G ("Bury nose in between Kyle's toes") says anything about whether it refers to socked feet or bare feet. But I deduced from the fact that Letter E ("Sniff and kiss Kyle's socked feet") was kind of the same as Letter G except it refers specifically to socked feet, that Letter G must mean bare feet. But given how arbitrary Kyle can be, even if I got it right, he could still pretend like I got it wrong, and his words "the punishment will be severe beyond belief" for any fuck up with respect to this list rang loudly in my head. Thankfully, Kyle did not stop me, reprimand me, or anything else; he just let me keep going. Getting the interpretation right on Kyle's menu of humiliating services was now a source of immense pride to me. Wow.
So I kept going. I planted my nose right at the middle part of the row of toes on his right foot, where the stink is most powerful, and started massaging the sole. I knew that Letter G said only "bury nose", which meant smell, and so even though my general rule of thumb is to go all out, in this instance I interpreted the command as limited to smelling. Letter G was focused on that, so Kyle must want me to focus on that. My saliva could have diluted the precious smell and sweat, so it made sense. What I didn't diminish one bit, however, was the intensity with which I sniffed hard in this position, as hard as I was sniffing the inside of the heat-radiating cleats. The stink on Kyle's feet was not worse than his cleats, but different, more intimate and far more arousing to me. Don't get me wrong, Kyle's post-soccer toes still smelled objectively disgusting, but for me it all smells great. I could also feel the front of my underwear getting stickier and wetter than ever.
"Fuck, faggot. You are such a pathetic faggot, you know that?"
"Yes, Master," I said, followed by another deep, appreciative whiff. As I spoke, my lips brushed against his foot.
"God, how could we have been friends all that time? Now that I know the truth about you, I feel like being friends with you was a drag on me. Apologize for that, bitch."
"Yes, Master," I replied, my nose still planted in between his toes and my hand still massaging the rest of his foot with gusto. "I am really sorry I pretended to be something I was not. I am so sorry that I am causing you to be upset. Your happiness is the most important thing to me, and I am a total fucktard for doing anything that makes you less happy. Please, Master, I don't deserve your forgiveness, but please know just how really, really sorry I am."
Master Kyle rolled his eyes. "Whatever, cum wad. You're gonna be making it up to me for a long, long time. And that still will never repay me. Switch feet, queer." And I did, repeating the process now to his glorious left foot. More smelly goodness. More insults from him. More gratitude, apologies, and flattery from me. All the while, the fact that he was so incredibly good looking made this all worth it.
Over the next thirty minutes, Kyle ordered Letters M ("Tongue in between each toe"), N ("Lick foot from heel to toes") and H-L (toe sucking, both individually and in combination) from his remote. At one point he went in rapid succession with M1 to N2 to J1 to L2 to H1-L1 combo. I kept it all straight and maintained my level of passion and enthusiasm throughout. Yes, he commanded it, but I also wanted to do it. That DNA again; what would have been unbelievable to most people felt exactly right to me. The fact that I had not cum since Sunday morning confirmed yet another thing Kyle said, "A hard faggot delivers better service."
Then came to grand finale. "Time for Z, asswipe." Exactly, it was time to be Kyle's asswipe. Even though his shorts were still on, I guess Kyle wanted to jump straight to something even he had never experienced before. So I moved off of his feet and moved to remove his shorts and underwear. (I won't get too much into the underwear today. By the time I write this, I have already done Letter R: "Take Kyle's underwear off, turn inside out, and sniff the pouch, hard". But no Letter R on the menu today.)
Now I had never eaten anyone's ass before, and certainly no one had eaten mine. But I could imagine that it must feel very good to the person being rimmed. And as long as I am rimming Kyle with every bit of zeal as I do in all the other ways I service him, I should be able to do a good job. So I lifted his ass cheeks up, stared at his hole for just a few seconds, and dived in tongue first. My aim was true. It was as if the tip of my tongue was shaped precisely to be inserted into his hole. And I went for it. Swirling my tongue around, darting it in and out, licking all around the hole area, twisting my nose into the crevice like a pig digging for truffles. What did I smell and taste? A pungent ass smell, of course, along with more soccer sweat. Salty, bitter and nasty.
But what topped it all off was Kyle's reaction. "Oh fuck," he exclaimed with pleasure. It was louder than he had ever been during our master-servant encounters. (Thank goodness no one was home.) "God damn it, that feels good," his sexy voice boomed as he writhed in pleasure. "Keep going, bitch. Yeah, just like that. F-u-c-k..."
I was elated he felt so good. Until I was interrupted by a loud sound and a puff of blinding gas pumped directly into my nostrils. I moved back just a smidgen from the shock, but knew better that I had to immediately get my face right back where it was.
"Oops, didn't mean to do that," Kyle said after he released his fart. I guess the sensation for the first time of a tongue in his hole triggered something involuntary. "Oh well, why don't you breathe that in, you stupid faggot?" And then Kyle went into a fit of uncontrollable laughter.
I did not miss a beat. It was dreadful, but I took at least ten long, deep whiffs of his fart.
Kyle was not done. "What do you say to my fart, homo?"
Wow, after repeatedly thanking Kyle, Kyle's feet, Kyle's cock, Kyle's socks, and Kyle's cum, I was now reduced to thanking Kyle's fart. I moved my face slightly away from Kyle's ass and said, "Master Kyle's fart, thank you for making your way directly into my lungs. Thank you for smelling the way you do. It makes me feel warm and gooey breathing you in. If the only air I got to breathe from now on consisted only of you, I would gladly accept that without any hesitation."
Kyle guffawed. "Well, get back to it then, you fag!" And I did. He moaned and groaned and writhed some more, and before I knew it, he jerked his cock to produce a massive load with my tongue up his hole the entire time.
After a minute, he said, "All right, move back now, asswipe." He got up off the bed, some cum dripping onto the floor, and walked out of my room and down the hall into the bathroom naked from the waist down. He was going to take a shower without letting me eat his precious cum. I thought about licking the few drops that had fallen onto the floor, but decided it was better to keep the room exactly as it was until he commanded otherwise. Heck, for all I know, he deliberately wanted to deprive me of his cum this time, and I had better let him get what he wants.
When he finished showering, he came back, took some clean clothes out of his gym bag, put his dirty gear back in, and started dressing himself. "Turn your head away, faggot. I don't want you lookin' at me." Still on my knees, I looked away. He would not let me drool over his sexiness. That was his prerogative. When he was done, he walked out the door. Didn't say a word, not even the usual, "Shut the fuck up, fag." When he was done with me, he was done with me. Either way, I remained in a state of my own perverted euphoria.
As I started getting up off the floor, my eyes suddenly saw that his sweaty soccer socks were still on my bed. In one swift motion, I picked up the socks, sat back on my bed, slid my shorts and underwear off half way, brought the socks up to my nose, started inhaling the intoxicating scent, and brought my other hand down to my dick. It did not take long.
TO BE CONTINUED ...