The Intruder
by QuantumLuv

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“That’s right, sniff my toes, bitch!”

The response came in nanoseconds: “YES, MASTER!!”

Here sat Dan, at his computer, typing his subservient pleas into an IM window, horny as ever, furiously wailing away at his hardon, his work slacks tangled down at this ankles, his work shoes not even off yet. He had been on the verge of cumming for close to an hour, but the IM conversation kept getting hotter and hotter: the tip of cock was positively tingling right now – he had never been more in love with his fetish than in this very moment.

“Lick it,” Jay typed.

And that’s what did it.

Dan shot hard, really fucking hard, his shaft tingling through each and every moment, twitching after each propulsive shot. Beet-red from such a prolonged climax, Dan’s guttural grunts of pleasure filled the room. He had cum before, he had cum over foot fetish fiction and pictures he saw online, he had even cum at the thoughts of his good friends and co-workers positively dominating him with their fresh-out-of-college bare feet, but talking to someone who was unquestionably a master a domming like this – it was a whole new experience, and it had pushed him into a state of pure animal lust. He had never felt unbridled. His body slumped in his chair, exhausted. Sweat – actual sweat! – dripped from his brow.

Jay’s sent a new IM message: “How was that?”

Dan was still panting. He finally summoned up enough strength to haul his arms over to the keyboard: “Jay ... I fucking owe you one after that.”

“Damn right you do.”

“LOL” Dan replied ... even if he wasn’t really laughing. He continued: “We’ll have to try that for real sometime.”

“Well you have to let me know when your wife isn’t home, dude.”

“Well,” Dan started typing, then stopped, thinking very carefully about what he was going to say next.

After all, Dan was 27 years old and had a great life out in Boston: he had a good job (accountant for a shipping firm), he had a hot wife (Suzanne, who was a legal clerk), and even managed to rummage up enough cash to buy a small house right outside of downtown. Yet even with all of this – he wasn’t completely happy.

There was still a part of him that hadn’t been fully satisfied. For you see, Dan had a raging male foot fetish. It was ... intense, to say the least. Seeing a guy’s bare toes out in the open wasn’t really the basis of it (although he did appreciate a good pair of clean, plump toes that could potentially be sucked on) – it was deeper than that. What he found hot was the reason why a guy would go barefoot in the first place. Some guys were shy about showing their feet (for some, inexplicable reason). Some could’ve give less of a fuck about shoes. Others just enjoyed lounging, casual enough to wear flip-flops in the day but still wear shoes and socks to class. The mindset a guy had to be in: the openness, the implied vulnerability – in essence, the way the male ego manifested itself in everyday dress. A guy walking into Dan’s frat with soccer cleats and ankle socks didn’t really intrigue Dan that much. But a brother standing out on the porch of their fraternity, smoking a bowl of weed in an unbuttoned button-down shirt, pajama pants, and nothing else – it was images like that that worked Dan’s imagination.

He liked the shape of a guy’s toes, the length of them, whether or not they had a wisp of hair on the tops of them, how wrinkled (or dirty) the soles in question were – there were many factors. Would he like to wrap his moist mouth around a guy’s bared toes and suck on them just for the experience, the taste, the flavor? Of course. But, really, Dan was more curious about what the guy’s reaction would be. He wouldn’t want it to lead to more sex – that, for him, was a bit out of the question in his mind – but would the guy react favorably? Would he himself get hard? What if it was the straightest of straight guys? Could such an encounter cause wood to spring?

Dan’s mind tormented him daily with these endless questions. Although he loved Suzanne dearly (ever since that goofy lil’ college prom they went to sophomore year), his male foot fetish had been developing since high school. Joining a frat made sense to him both academically and career-wise – but one of the lingering, secret reasons he joined in the first place was because he really, really wanted to be around the bared feet of some of his collegiate peers – and that’s exactly what happened. He never was bold enough to go out and actually ask a guy if he could sniff his feet or even give a foot massage – such overtures he knew would be greeted with skepticism, perhaps even dismissal. But he still swiped guys’ sweaty socks out of laundry hampers when no one was around for jerking purposes. During his Junior year, he even stayed at the Frat over winter-break, and spent hours on end indulging his access to people’s closets, finding the most sweatblackened pair of flip-flops he could find and licking them for what felt like hours. He had outlets for his fetish – but never proper follow-ups. As such his fetish didn’t develop: it sat intensifying in its adolescent stage, soon swelling to the point where he was afraid to ask anyone for time to “explore”. The more potent it got, the more unsatisfied he ultimately was.

Only a few weeks ago did he reconnect with Jay, a frat brother of his who had only recently moved to Boston to work as a low-level manager for a coffee chain. It seemed strange, but Dan was happy for Jay. He was two classes behind Dan, and only after Dan had graduated did Jay actually come out as gay to his brothers – leading to many hilarious misadventures (which were, of course, communicated to Dan through the magical powers of alumni gossip). Dan honestly didn’t think much of the tales, but when he saw Jay online on Facebook not too long ago, he felt like dropping a line. Suddenly they were talking on a fairly regular basis – and Jay was quite the flirt. And not the desperate, awkward kind of flirt either: in-between the last year that Dan saw him and right now, Jay must have had many, many experiences, because he was a goddamn master sexual conversationalist. Only one week after reconnecting did Jay manage to extract from Dan his secret foot fetish. Jay tossed fantasy scenarios at him again and again and again. Once Jay even sent a letter to Dan’s place featuring a few pages of dirty fetish-related text that he had penned (in sending the letter to Dan’s name only, he was able to side-step any possible interference from Suzanne). It was almost as if Jay and Dan were harboring a “special”, secret relationship.

Jay’s motives, meanwhile, were far more devious. Although he was living out in Boston with his boyfriend of three years, Jay wasn’t merely up for going to the gay area of town and getting as much free cock as he could handle. For him, that was too easy – there was no effort involved! He had learned every possible trick and twist there was to male-male bedroom play, so once he conquered that domain, he set his sights towards more lofty goals: to seduce “straight” guys. The word “straight” always appeared in quotes in his mind, because according to Jay, no one in the world is every 100% straight. Sure, people may not ever act on their impulses, much less talk about them, but some form of deviation is always there – Jay made it his job to distract it. He didn’t just want to convince a horny frat brother to drop his pants for a free blow job, no. He wanted to make a straight guy fall in love with him. He wanted to bat some eyelashes and break a heart from across the room. He wanted to seduce, and by playing coy and innocent (since everyone loved the innocent ones), he was able to entice from far away. He had already pulled off that trick three times, once even getting the Treasurer of his Frat to, waking up with him one fateful Saturday morning, beg him for a kiss, for a shot at a relationship, despite the fact that he was already dating one of the best-looking Varsity cheerleaders on campus. Jay, of course, giddily denied his request. He had conquered a new mountain, and was now eagerly searching for the next one.

With Dan, he found his next challenge.

The text marker was flashing at the two young men, several miles apart in the same city. Here was Dan, exploring new horizons in himself, and here was Jay, never having met anyone with a foot fetish but wanting to give it a shot if just not to chase after his own goal: to now break up a marriage. Dan got up the strength and finished typing:

“Well, she’s gone on a church retreat this weekend.” Fuck, what was he doing?

A wicked grimace spread across Jay’s face. The fly was now coming to the spider. “We’ll see you then, boy.” Jay immediately logged off. Dan was both shocked and excited by their exchange. The gears of fate were now in motion ...

+++

Friday’s day shift was finally over, and it couldn’t have come too soon. All throughout the week, that conversation that he had with Jay was echoing throughout his head, every moment of it. With Jay, a while Pandora’s Box of devious pleasures could be unleashed, but at what cost? Why the hell did he even tell Jay that Suzanne was going to be out of town this weekend? And – above all – what the hell did Jay mean when he said “We’ll see you then, boy”? Being called “boy” like that – it was a new experience for him, but Dan kind of liked it. He wondered what it would be like to worship a true foot master – but these thoughts were still firmly rooted in fantasy. The actual reality of it all terrified him. To the core, even.

The second that Dan got home, he saw a note attached to the fridge: it was from Suzanne, saying she left a couple of prepared meals in the freezer in case he gets hungry that evening. Dan sighed sweetly upon reading it: Suzanne was always doing sweet little gestures like that to just make his day a little bit brighter. Yet as Dan’s mind labored on the thought, it drifted towards the computer, dragging him along with it. He just ... had to login and see if Jay was online. He felt terrible that this, above everything, was his first impulse, and in cases like this, sex was trumping love. And BOY was it trumping.

Not even changed out of his work clothes, he got online, and there was Jay’s profile name just winking at him, tempting him, waiting for him. Dan took some time to compose himself, and then made the initiative:

“Hey.”

Jay responded with a winking emoticon. He was obviously in a playful mood. Dan then received the ominous message “So ... is tonight the night?”

Dan was doing his best at being playful in return: “The night for what?”

“The night when you finally meet a true foot master, bitch.”

“Heh heh, you’re such a tease.”

“It’s not a tease if I mean it ...”

“Heh heh” was all Dan could muster back.

“Tonight, you’re going to lick my bare, sexy soles tonight, Dan. And you’re going to love it.” Jay was going for the kill.

Dan felt a bit uneasy about the whole thing. Yes, the idea of “serving” the feet of a guy seemed right up his alley, but ... this was all happening too quickly, too soon. I mean, he has never had any sort of “direct” contact with the bare soles of a guy like that before, and he really, really wanted to experience that ... but, now? While his wife was out of town? He felt like he was cheating in some way or another. Hell, the pangs of guilt that he felt each and every time he got a hardon thinking about feet were enough to make him swear off the whole thing. Yet, tonight, it really did feel as if he was going to far.

“Jay, I’m having second thoughts about the whole thing. I’m sorry, but I just feel weird about doing this while Suzanne is out of town. You know what I mean? I don’t mean to give your hopes up, but ... yeah.”

The text cursor flashed at him. Once, twice, three times ... ten times. Twenty. Nothing. Fuck, Dan thought, he screwed it up again. A golden opportunity just slipped through his fingers. He had never felt so bad about doing the right thing.

“See you soon” Jay typed back. Then he signed off.

Dan’s eyes went wide. What the hell was he doing? What just happened? Dan suddenly felt a bit ... panicked. Was Jay planning something? Dan stepped back form his computer. This was ... scary. He was actually, genuinely scared. He jumped back and checked Facebook to see if Jay had posted anything – but nothing.

But wait – how would Jay even know where he lived even if he was planning something? Then it dawned on him: the letter that Jay sent with that story he wrote. It’s not necessarily that he wanted to send him a story – he wanted his address. Dan realized that this trap had been set WAY in advance.

Dan spent close to a half hour nervously pacing around his house. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t have Jay’s number at all to call to figure out what was happening, but ...

Ding-dong.

Dan didn’t even have to guess: he knew Jay had arrived.

Nervously, Dan walked to the door. He leaned up against it and asked simply, without emotion, “Who is it?”

Jay’s voice rang loud and clear from the other side: “Open the door, bitch.”

So forward. So direct. Without even thinking, Dan obliged. He opened the door and Jay simply walked in like he owned the place, not even saying a word. He was dressed rather plainly: a striped blue shirt, blue jeans, and what appeared to be white ankle socks and tennis shoes. Jay had a messenger bag around his shoulder that complimented his longer, blonde hair, but right now, Jay looked more like a homeowner, with Dan as the confused guest.

Jay walked right into the living room, and set his messenger bag down next to the couch. He propped his sneakered feet right up on the coffee table, and simply stared at Dan, who had just finished locking the front door. His feet gently rocked back and forth. Dan was still speechless, and staring, blankly.

“Well what are you waiting for? Take ‘em off.”

Dan was already intrigued by the circle that Jay’s toes were drawing in the air, but still tried his best to keep his reason above water, and mustered what he could for a sentence: “Jay, I don’t know what you’re ...”

“Take ‘em off, slave!”

The urge won. Suddenly, Dan was acting as if he was under the control of something else, some horny lust demon had overtaken his body. He walked over to the opposite end of the coffee table, and kneeled. He was now staring directly at the soles of Jay’s tennis shoes, the kind with all the ridiculously complex patterns and logos on the bottom, great for advertising in snow imprints and little else. Dan, still in a state of half-shock, looked into Jay’s blue eyes, and saw something that he couldn’t quite place his finger on. Something that he knew he had to obey, lest there be terrible, terrible consequences.

“What are you waiting for?”

Even with everything happening at once, Dan reached out and placed his hands on the tops of Jay’s sneakers. He certainly didn’t have any sort of shoe-related fetish specifically, but to feel those laces, to know that those feet he was pining for were a half-inch of material away – it was enough to give him a rush. Slowly, he snuck his fingers into the knots at the top and slowly began to untie them. Undoing the knots so that the laces just flapped on to the sides. “Good boy,” said Jay, pleased with the progress of his young pupil. Once both sneakers were unlaced, Dan held onto Jay’s left sneaker tightly so that Jay could slowly drag his socked foot out. Dan was entranced as he saw each little stitch of fabric pass by, teasing him the whole way through. The right foot followed.

Soon, two sneakers laid on the ground on either side of the coffee table. Now, as Dan sat there on the floor, two pairs of socked Jayfeet were staring back at him. He could clearly see a bit of dirt and sweat had accumulated on the bottom of the foot. Jay crunched his toes a bit just to see what sort of reaction they’d get, and Dan subconsciously leaned in a bit more, almost hypnotized by their movements. As of right now, Dan was in uncharted waters, but fuck if he hadn’t been more intrigued by the direction he was heading.

“Lean in,” Jay commanded. Dan did so, using his arms to prop himself up a bit. Jay then put those ankle-socked feet right on top of his head and pushed it down so that his chin was flat level with the table. Then, Jay moved his feet around so both soles were right up in Dan’s face, canvassing it like a mask.

Then all Jay had to do was say one word: “Sniff.”

Dan inhaled, and his hardon went from curious to engorged. He wore that sockmask with pride, and each breath in was a validation as to why his fetish was so great. The tastes, the flavors, the smells. Heaving, heaving, heaving, suddenly Dan was almost in a new realm of pleasure. His cockhead had never tingled with so much pleasure, as a big ridiculous smile spread a cross his face, the corners of his mouth lightly scraping the socks in front of him as he did so.

The more he inhaled, the more Jay was encouraged to keep up this course of action. Jay took away his right foot, leaving Dan there simply to sniff all he could out of the left. The right foot then began rubbing itself over Dan’s head, pushing his hair back in a comforting gesture, accompanied by a few token iterations of “Good boy!” Each time that socked wonder pet Dan’s head from his forehead back, he truly felt as if he was doing a good thing, as if he was serving his function, and best of all, making his Master happy.

Wait a second: Master? Did he really just think of Jay in the context of “Master”? Holy shit. His brain was two steps ahead of him. His mind wasn’t even resisting: it was lying down and letting Jay literally walk all over it, only to thank him for doing so. Each discovery that Dan had was as pleasurable as it was terrifying. He had never felt the level of satisfaction that he had while sniffing those socked feet, trumping even sex with his wife. But that nagging guilt still weighted on him, making him second-guess each and every nanosecond of this experience.

Jay spoke again: “Teeth.” Dan stared at him, eyebrow arched. “Um ... what?” “Use your teeth,” he said, wiggling his toes, “now!”

No further explanation was needed, Dan’s head craned in between Jay’s feet, and placed his nose right at the elastic rim of Jay’s right sock. He sniffed a bit, and could already feel a bit of sweat forming down along the heels of those magnificent feet (Dan wasn’t really great at guessing these kinds of things, but if he had to, he’d estimate Jay’s were a size 12). Then he moved forward a bit, and chomped the elastic rim, already caked with a bit of that tasty, salty sweat. Very slowly, he pulled the elastic rim downward, over the heel, over the soles, across the base of the toes, and then finally, it was off. Dan was there, kneeling in front of his coffee table with a worn ankle sock hanging out of the corner of his mouth, and there was Jay, laying on the futon happy as a clam, one foot socked and one foot bare. It would be obvious to anyone who walked in to know who was in control.

With the taste of captured foot sweat slowly draining into his mouth, Dan wasn’t necessarily conscious to his actions nor what was going on: his brain was simply suspended in the moment. All he saw before him wasn’t necessarily objects of desire, not necessarily something that he wanted, but somebody that he wanted. Perhaps he didn’t know it yet, and perhaps he didn’t even fully realize it, but the want, the need to please somebody wasn’t there. As he was discovering, was that his fetish wasn’t separate from anything: feet by itself wouldn’t just do it for him. It was the feet of that specific individual that he was intrigued by, almost as much as the individual itself. His brain had already made this connection, although he himself had yet to realize it.

Jay was now cruelly toying with his prey. He wiggled his toes, he curled them together and slowly released them. He scratched one foot with the other, and watched Dan’s eyes following each movement the whole time. The boy was hypnotized, and would obey Jay’s every command. Jay decided to implement a test to see if his new slave was fully trained. He removed his feet from the coffee table and planted them firmly on the carpeted floor.

“Crawl!” he commanded.

The sock dropped out of Dan’s mouth. Without thinking, he pressed his head to the floor and slowly moved his way towards his Master’s feet. There they were: jeans draped over the tops, carpet pressed under the bottom. This fabric sandwich did wonders for Dan. Calling it a visual feast would be an understatement.

“Kiss them.”

Dan looked up to lock with Jay’s eyes, which were unflinching – this was serious. Very serious.

Dan immediately took his face to the tops of Jay’s foot and started kissing them sweetly, softly. He kissed the tops, the base of the toes, the actual toenails, the tips, the spaces in-between. Everywhere. It felt good to give Master acknowledgement of his greatness, to physically give praise to his perfect, sexy feet. The physical act of kissing them only engrained the fetish deeper into his being: with each kiss, he loved doing it even more.

“OK, stop!” commanded Jay. Dan looked up. “Stand.” Dan did so. Jay then stood up and saw the nervous, horny, obedient man standing before him. Jay looked him over, noticing the quickness of Jay’s breath. The boy was nervous – but he had dealt with these things before. Jay began pacing the room as Dan stood, firmly planted.”

“Shoes off.” Dan looked at Jay, and again saw that unwavering glare of authority. He sat on the couch and began undoing his laces, soon toeing off his shoes, leaving just black works socks remaining.

“Socks off.” Well, that was pretty self explanatory.

“Now stand.” Dan stood up, still in his button-down and slacks from work (he never even thought of changing for some reason), his own barefeet finding solid carpet ground to stand firm on.

Silence.

Jay slowly circled his willing victim, eyeing him even more carefully than before. He planted himself squarely in front of Dan, and grinned. Jay then started unbuttoning the front of Dan’s shirt. Dan started to mouth a protest, but nothing came of it. His white undershirt was now exposed.

“Barechested. Now.”

Dan obliged.

Dan was shedding clothes faster than he ever thought possible. Jay then grabbed the front of Dan’s pants, and felt the throbbing, curious erection inside. He stroked the shaft briefly through the fabric, and Dan’s reaction was a mix of surprise, disgust, and utter delight. It’s like his brain had shut off completely: he was now doing only what his cock wanted, and boy did it like what was happening.

Jay undid the button on the front of the pants, and then started slowly unzipping them, before yanking them down. Dan’s eyes remained closed in a state of shocked pleasure as this happened. Now, with pants around his ankles, Dan stood there with a pair of boxer shorts and one muscle wanting to escape its fabric cage – badly. This was a rather intoxicating mix of both pleasure and pure humiliation, no doubt evidenced by the fact that a circle of precum was gradually widening on the front of his boxers.

“Meet me in your bedroom.”

Dan stared back at Jay – that ... that was a command?

“Now, bitch!” roared Jay. Dan was taken back quite a bit: Master was yelling at him. Dan, so easily slipping into this clearly-defined role, was terrified. He briskly walked towards his own bedroom, noticing Jay pulling something out of messenger bag as he did.

Dan stood at the edge of his bed. His own bed, that he slept in with Suzanne every night. The slatted header and footer, it’s shiny wooden finish. And yet, here was someone who was about to come in and do something to him on it. Or, maybe, force him to do something to Master? Maybe this was a bad idea, after all, he was kind of ...

“Face me.”

Jay burst into the room, wearing the same thing as before except now he put his ankle socks back on. Dan stood at attention, as if in boot camp. He awaited orders.

Jay walked up to him and without saying a word put a blindfold on over his head. The world was engulfed in darkness. Then ...

Oh, that moist, moist sucking.

Dan’s mouth was agape, quivering with new pleasure. Jay was sucking Dan’s throbbing cock through the boxer fabric, and it was a damn, sloppy, wondrous world of total pleasure. Dan already felt like he was on the verge of cumming harder than he ever had before.
Then it stopped just as suddenly as it started. Dan heard Jay rummage for something he brought into the room with him, and then felt a big leather strap get attached to his ankle, then pulled taught. Then the other ankle. Then each wrist. With the wrists in particular he could suddenly feel the true weight of these things – they were fuckin’ industrial. He heard Jay move to the other end of the bed, and then ...

YANK!

Suddenly Jay’s arms were pulled backwards, flinging the rest of his body onto the bed. His right arm was pulled violently rigid, as if he was being dragged by a supernatural force. Then, it dawned on him: attached to each cuff was a long strap, which, when Jay pulled on them, suddenly turned Dan into a sexual marionette, awaiting the puppeteers command. Jay fastened one arm to the bed, then the other: the arms were tied to opposite ends of the headboard. Jay toyed with Dan’s legs though, giving them playful yanks here and there, making him merely think he was being dragged into final position. But if only Dan knew what Jay had in mind. Jay wasn’t merely going to tie Dan’s legs to the ends of the footboard: that would make too small an “X”. Instead, he pulled the strap to Dan’s left leg much father up, moving up the actual bed itself, finding a way to tie the end to the bedspring frame underneath the mattress. Dan’s legs were awkwardly skewed leftwards because of this. But then Jay proceeded to grab the right leg strap and pull that helpless little leg well to the opposite direction. It kind of hurt a bit, this stretching, as suddenly Dan’s legs were spread wide. Real fuckin’ wide. Suddenly, it did don on Dan why Jay wanted to secure him this way: to have full access to his cock and balls, without anything getting in the way.

Dan then realized that he was fucked.

Unable to move a single muscle, blinded by the heavy eyepad, a hardon straining through the boxers up to the point where the fabric was rubbing against his cockhead gently enough to start driving him horny-mad, Dan was completely unsure of what to feel right now. He was fuckin’ horny, yes, but not as much for feet at this moment. Being manhandled like this ... that ... that was a new sensation for him. He was excited and terrified at the exact same moment, but was resigned to his fate: Jay was controlling his body right now – not him.

Dan felt Jay stand on the bed, causing the mattress to depress on either side of his ribs. Then ... nothing. Dan’s body was tense – tenser than it’s ever been! – but nothing was happening. The anticipation of the moment, the wondering of what the hell was going to happen next, possibly at any second – it was too much. Dan’s almost-nude body was practically quivering in fear. This was getting intense.

Suddenly, across his nipple, he felt it: a fabric stroke. It ... it was ... a sock? Yes, Jay’s socked foot was slowly running along Dan’s ribcage, and he could feel literally every fiber of it. His cock twitched in approval. Jay was really utilizing Dan’s fetish to the extreme, and figured the only way to do this was to torment him further. The toes wiggled into Dan’s ribs a bit as it did, and Dan tried his best to contain his giggles. Had his blindfold been off, he would’ve seen Jay’s mouth morph into an evil, twisted grin of delight.

Jay then took his other socked foot and began circling his big toe portion around Dan’s lips, never dipping in, but teasing the boy relentlessly. He then placed the base of his toes right on Dan’s nose, forcing him to inhale even more footsmell than before. The foot went on to brush across his forehead, stroke his eyebrows, and even trace his neckline. It was all utter torment for the horny fetish-boy underneath those gorgeous, perfect feet.

“Would you like my socks, boy?” Jay asked in a very seductively menacing voice.

Instead of verbalizing a response, Dan simply nodded yes very rapidly – there was absolutely nothing he wanted more at that exact moment. Jay placed the toe portion of his right sock right onto Jay’s lips, instructed him to clench down on the fabric-y tip, and then slowly started to take his foot out of it. Off it had slipped, and soon the sock dropped down into Dan’s horny mouth. Dan’s tongue was bathed in flavor, and gods was he content. The routine repeated with Jay’s other sock, but this time Jay took an even longer time to take his foot out of the sock: he really wanted to see how badly Dan wanted to have these things shoved in there. With that, Jay was barefoot again, and yet another sock had slapped back into Dan’s mouth. Dan felt Jay get off of the bed to grab something, and then resumed his standing position over him. Dan heard the opening rip of duct-tape, but before he had any time to object, Jay placed a giant piece of it over Dan’s mouth, gagging his slave completely, lodging the sweaty Jaysocks in there permanently. In Jay’s mind, there now wouldn’t be any problems going forward.

Suddenly Jay dropped down on the bed to a kneel, with Dan’s bound body underneath him, his ribcage trapped right in-between Jay’s thighs. Dan gasped in panic, stunned, while Jay started wiggling his fingers in the air. He then said three of the most terrifying words in all of the English language:

“Are you ticklish?”

Through the socks and duct tape, Dan let out as mighty a scream as he could. But it didn’t manner: Jay’s fingers dug into Dan’s armpits, and began lightly scratching the interior of those sexy, nearly-hairless manpits. The fingernails scraped the tops of each and every nerve ending, and Dan’s body tried its best to bring its arms down, to raise it’s the ribcage up – just anything to hide his pits from the terrible tickle terror that was being inflicted on him. Dan began laughing hard – well as hard as he could with two slightly-dirty ankle socks taped into his mouth, gagging on footsweat every few seconds. Yet the tickles didn’t stop: the fingers were relentless, and Dan was tied so tight that he couldn’t even flinch an inch. The armpits were stuck there, and all they could was be tickled. It was pure torture for Dan – although his hardon didn’t shrink.

After about ten minutes of this, Jay stopped, and got off of the bed. He grabbed something yet again, and Dan was sweating like hell. He was taking bucket breaths through his nose, trying his best to regain his composure. Then he felt Jay get back on the bed, and sat down right in-between Dan’s bound legs. Jay’s own legs, however, were positioned so that his toes were right in Dan’s armpits. The toes slowly moved back and forth, back and forth in those pits, barely tickling them but constantly teasing Dan’s fragile, horny young mind. All Jay was doing was sitting on the bed and wiggling his toes in Dan’s bound, helpless pits, and the remaining strength in Dan’s body was doing all it could to prevent it. A delirious, exhausting mixture of choked laughter and as good as a cock tease as he’s ever experienced. Dan was hating and loving every visceral minute of it.

Jay kept this up for about five minutes, watching Dan’s cock pulsate and twitch against its will, positively straining against its boxer fabric. Jay, being devious, proceeded to grab the stretched-out bits of fabric near the base of Dan’s cock on each side, and then proceeded to slide them back and forth, back and forth, ever-so-slowly. Even though the fabric near his cockhead was soaked in pre-cum, that annoying and fibery drag across Dan’s too-sensitive head was driving him mad. He literally didn’t know if he could stand another second – if there was a safeword he could scream he would – but absolutely nothing was coming out of his mouth in-between the screams of sexual anguish and too-deep laughter. Throughout all of this, his pitch was slowly shifting from guttural to high – high as in desperate and whiny. Right now, Dan was being owned.

Jay then broke out a pair of scissors that he had with him (they were the kindergarten kind with the rounded tips, just so no accidents would happen), and slowly began snipping away at Dan’s boxer fabric. As the last cut was made, the elastic broke loose and Dan’s cock was freed: entrenched with fresh air, no longer straining against the fabric, it was practically singing with delight. Yet this moment of joy didn’t last too long: Jay’s toes continued to tease Dan’s pits again and again, causing as much squirming as the restraints would allow. If the duct-tape wasn’t over his head, one could see Dan’s mouth distorted into an unwilling smile, backed by roughly a thousand watts of tickle-energy. Dan’s mind had completely lost track of time: as far it was concerned, every passing second felt like an hour of tickle hell.

Jay watched his prey whither, watched that engorged cock continue to swell, watched the energy get slowly drained out of Dan’s body. Finally, Jay determined it was time to really, really play with his victim. Out came his finely-tuned feather, and slowly, he wiggled it underneath Dan’s balls. Shocked, Dan’s cock strained upwards and he tried to pull his legs in, but the leg restraints were so tight and his stance so wide that all his balls could do was just dangle there, helplessly; torturous ornaments being fondled by a devious, dexterous feather that attacked Dan’s nerves with laser precision.

The feather tracked the crevices in Dan’s ball-skin. It danced lightly around his gooch (it really liked that, staying there for a whole ten minutes). It traced along the inside of his thigh, and then lightly licked the base Dan’s cock. It slowly went up that cock, feathering and feathering and feathering away, slowly up towards the midway point, past it, right underneath the rim of the head, circling the rim ...

Underneath, Dan was screaming bloody murder.

Jay then placed his barefeet right on Dan’s face and said “Inhale!” Dan did so, his back arched, and the feather circled the desperate, sensitive cockhead rapidly.

Ka-ching.

Dan’s cock exploded, firing out rockets of cum from sheer, unbridled sexual pleasure. Foot funk in his nose, tickles electrifying his cock, hours and hours of unreleased cum buildup behind him – it was a perfect storm. One rocket fired up his chest after another, ribbons of it flying through the air. Dan was almost in tears it felt so good. But after the third or forth stream, he thought he was done, but no – it kept on pumping against his will. More and more and more and more it went, each pump making his entire shaft infinitely more sensitive. Now it was too sensitive, and each pump was killing him. Yet it didn’t stop: it’s like he was on an endless cum cycle, and his cock just wasn’t listening to reason. The tears of reluctant ecstasy were moistening the blindfold, and then, finally, the cock calmed down. Jay got off of the bed, and Dan, with barely any energy left, laid there exhausted and whittled down to nothing. Jay walked over and ripped off the duct tape over Dan’s mouth and retrieved the now-chewed socks that were in there. Dan lapped the air. Jay went into Dan’s fridge and got out a bottle of water so that he could replenish the strength of his little victim. Dan’s eager mouth sucked down the whole bottle in nothing flat.

And then, nothing.

Dan’s muscles ached like hell, and his voice was so hoarse he could barely speak. Yet he just ... laid there. He felt absolutely nothing. At all. Minutes passed, and Dan’s mind was scrambling to put together a timeline of events about what just happened. But where was Jay? What was going on? More minutes ticked away, and Dan was now starting to get nervous.

Suddenly, he felt Jay sit down on the side of the bed – but what was he doing?

Dan felt one of Jay’s gorgeous bare feet start tracing his neckline, then move down across his chest, the toes fondling the nipples as they could. Then a second foot joined in, and soon both of Jay’s feet were mashing up Dan’s face, wiggling a toe in an ear, moving a sweaty sole across his mouth, and soon pushing off Dan’s blindfold.

For Dan, each movement of the foot felt incredible. To have those feet touching his skin made him feel good, special even, as he was the one that was selected to serve these pristine flesh beauties. As Dan’s mouth started subconsciously reaching out for a toe to suck on, to taste, there was a stirring. Against all odds, Dan’s cock was coming back to life. First a faint tingle, then a twitch, and then a slow, gradual rising action. Dan knew he couldn’t take any more, and tried filling his mind with images other than feet, but as shattered and broken as he was, it didn’t really matter: Jay’s feet were trumping all, and the warmth that radiated off of them was enough to make Dan want to fuck the living hell out of them. Dan was a slave of his own fetish, which was exactly what Jay was counting on.

As the cock was finally getting close to fully erect, Jay’s hand soon descended and began pumping Dan’s manhood firmly, getting the process going and bringing Dan to full attention in no-time. The feet were still mashing Dan’s face, and Dan didn’t really have any energy left to put up a fight: he was still a puppet for Jay’s amusement.

Then, without warning, Jay’s mouth descended on Dan’s cock, and began slurping away. Jay was a pro, and knew every twist, lick, and sound that could be made to bring Dan to a climax. Dan’s hips unconsciously thrust as far as they could in the warm, moist realm that was Jay’s talented mouth. Pulling his mouth off, Jay instructed “Lick!” and Dan did it with a fury, madly sticking out his tongue to try and get a taste of whatever soles, toes, or tops were coming his way. Jay’s mouth went in again, and Dan’s sensitivity went up a notch. Jay expertly twisted and slurped, and in no time at all, Dan screamed out “Nooooo! I’m going to cum!” “I know,” said Jay in devious response. Mere seconds passed, and soon Jay was sucking Dan dry of his seed, Dan blathering incoherently as his sensitivity skyrocketed yet again – it was all too much.

Jay separated his mouth again, and looked at his trembling prey. He quickly tickled Dan’s balls and a yelp came out. “Please!” pleaded Dan, desperate. “Please let me go!”

“You didn’t do a good job licking my feet this last time, slave.”

“I’LL DO BETTER I PROMISE!”

“See,” started Jay, “you’ve come twice in twelve minutes. Want to see if we can get you to cum four more times before the hour is up? I still think you got some cum you’ve been hiding from me ...”

Dan was about to protest, but Jay started again, getting Dan to finish.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Dan was about to pass up at any moment, the breeze from the air in the room immediately causing his cock to shudder from oversensitivity. His face was positively caked with tears. Jay walked over and began releasing Dan from his bonds. Dan couldn’t even reflexively coil into the fetal position he was so spent. Jay then sat on the bed and turned to Dan, saying simply: “Suzanne doesn’t come back until Sunday, right?” If Dan could’ve screamed, he would’ve right then and there. Jay then added one other caveat: “Let’s see if we can’t get you to say that you love me -- and mean it -- before she returns ...”

Dan wasn’t sure if that revelation was the best or worst thing he had ever heard. As he discovered the next morning however, what he thought didn’t really matter anymore ...