Brendan
and Lucas: Part 1
by Christopher
J.
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I was struggling between jobs this summer in Colorado.
I live in a town of about 110,000, and its a pretty conservative
environment. What I got myself into definitely didn't fit into the
dynamic of the scene, but then again who ever really knows what
can happen and where.
I got a part-time job working for a low-key political group whose
primary goal was to keep watch over the local city council. I was
doing what they call canvassing. I would go door to door and ask
folks if they wanted to become a member of the organization. It
was a pretty big undertaking, so they hired about 15 people to do
the canvassing. There were people from a wide variety of ethnicities...some
young and some middle aged. There were a couple of really hot young
guys that seemed like they were in college, and trying to make some
spare cash for partying. We would typically go out in pairs or threes
for safety and efficiency, and there was a lot of walking to do.
A whole lot of mid-summer super sweaty and tired feet walking!
I have always liked feet. I mean as long as I can literally remember
(like age 5)I had an attraction to feet. I long ago stopped trying
to find the reason why I liked such a thing. As I got older and
gained knowledge and experience, I really tweaked out what I liked
about feet and had a pretty good reason why by the time this part
time job came around…a part time job that ended up being full
time service for me as a lowly foot-boy to two very hot, very young,
and very arrogant guys that saw an opportunity to get themselves
a foot-slave and jumped on it.
I always thought I kept my peeks and stares and looks to a real
mellow, discreet, and unnoticeable formula for the fullest enjoyment
of the many displays of hot feet during the summer months in my
hometown just 1.5 hours South of Denver. I am a bisexual male in
my 30's and have had only female relationships but had the liking
for male feet actually. The paradigm of foot fancy that I subscribe
to works only with males to get the most out of what I believe to
be the bottom line of the whole foot thing.
Ok this is what I mean. Feet are of low status. Feet are historically
dirty and smelly. If you find yourself at someone's feet then you
are most likely in some sort of submission or lower state than they
are...I know you guys know what I mean so I won’t keep trying
to explain this. Bottom line for me is that if you are a foot-boy,
then you are serving the feet of someone who is more powerful, good
looking, or wealthy than you. Yes there are people who like to be
foot-slaves just because they like feet so much, but the kind of
foot-boy I am is because someone or some people have power over
me. They have power over me, and because of that they demand that
I should kneel before them and service their feet. The ultimate
yummy concept of power to me is when someone comes across me, and
I did them wrong in some way or somehow. Maybe I was rude to them,
or I fired them. Maybe they just don't like me and feel so superior
to me that they want to get the pleasure of coming up to me laughing
and slap me smartly only then to tell me that I belong at their
feet groveling, kissing, licking, smelling, or just being held there
with a sweaty powerful foot mashing my cheek into the ground. My
face would then get ground into the floor by a warm sweaty vinegar
touched foot by a tall and athletic young white guy with a big dick
and even bigger attitude who tells me how fucking pathetic I am
and also makes known that I should be so apologetic and afraid of
what he is going to do me. I should perspire with a torrent of sweat
produced by frantically trying to fix whatever it was that I had
done to him only to get further informed by the placement of the
other big, sweaty, and humiliation-ready foot on my forehead with
a strong arch that it’s to fucking late for all that regret
and apology shit. I fucked up, and now I have made my life very
uniquely complicated. Shoulda, coulda, woulda...yeah well that's
all pretty moot right now. My mistake plus the fact that I was born
void of any of the qualities that inherently lend power, prestige,
and status are the palpable indicators that I will not be enjoying
the spoils of being the placer of lesser men at feet. No way! Whether
I like feet or not, I am going to be living a very humiliating existence
overflowing with all things feet and all that comes with service
to the feet of the one I somehow did wrong or crossed or were just
so un-fucking-lucky to cross paths with.
It seems as though I had run across some of the power types, but
just wasn’t aware of it yet. It won't take very long before
I become the little canvasser guy who rubbed wrong the last two
guys that I should have. Brendan and Lucas were a couple of 18yr
old California transplants that decided to try school in Colorado
and reap the rewards of Mother Nature's snow sowing in the Colorado
High Country. They were cocky white boys with awesome tans and just
looked like some light weight bad boy types. I say light weight
because they didn't look like complete bad boy losers, but rather
intelligent gutsy guys with enough bad boy in them to make them
really cool and popular with the ladies.
Popularity with the ladies sprang from the rebellion inherent in
bad boys but more for a trait that most white bad boys seem to possess.
It has been my experience that bad boy types are always very well
endowed. Such is why they are never short on boyfriends, or girlfriends.
Oh yeah and lets clear this up real quick...bigger is better. Period.
Being well-endowed is such a revered thing. It is the stuff that
means most...anyone who tells you different has a little one and
doesn't know any better. This type has heard the ocean motion saying
and thinks it's true and his savior from spending all his time wallowing
in little league of cock.
Okay, anyway, you get the point. I started being assigned with Brendan
and Lucas all the time. It didn’t take long before I started
fantasizing about what these hot young studs had beneath the belt
and inside the Nike Cross Trainers they were usually wearing for
our assigned walking routes. We would spend about 5 hours walking,
so you know that was more than enough time to make some nice hot
and sweaty feet that would just love to be massaged. I started paying
a lot of attention to the two, and always made sure I was on their
crew. I was going crazy wondering when I would get to catch a glimpse
of some tan topped and super white bottomed white boy stud feet...size
12 both of them! They just looked like that type of white boy that
tans really golden from a base white that is pretty stark white.
These types of guys (girls too actually) tend to have the type of
feet where the tops are golden tan and then transitions to an awesome
creamy white sole.
I finally got an idea of what Brendan was packing. We happened to
both have to piss real bad and our only option was a quick whip
out, so we wouldn't get seen by any kids or ladies or the like.
True to the typically expected (being white and bad boyish) Brendan
had a big fuckin dick. I was so fucking jealous, and he knew it.
My stare was not covert enough and lasted way too long, so that
not only did he know I was lookin but also what I had. I always
wondered how he knew that I was looking out of jealous amazement
rather than homosexual liking. It probably, however, ended up adding
to the power I perceived him to possess.
Lucas was easy to gauge. He had a bulge so big and a seemingly always
semi-hard outline, that easily showed he also was working with some
nice machinery south of the border. Two good lookin white boys from
Cali with big dicks and very affluent parents...could it get any
more cliche? Maybe not, but that's how it was and how it usually
is when someone gets turned into a foot boy slave servant.
The days were coming to an end for this job, and I was constantly
fantasizing about two more than likely straight guys. I began to
feel as if they were beginning not to like me as much anymore because
they ultimately realized that I was quite a bit more intelligent
than they were, but I was also 20 years older than they were. They
just didn’t like being second in smarts or anything for that
matter. They started teasing me about my age, height, and baldness.
They knew they had me there, but not in intelligence. I could tell
that they definitely now considered themselves to be above me.
After Brendan had seen my little dick, he didn't mind the intelligence
gap. He made it a point to always maneuver conversations to girls
where having the big dick was the game-ender every time. Lucas was
still oblivious to my lack of endowment, but I sure saw that he
had a way bigger dick than I could ever wish for. Always these young
guys get so lucky to have a big cock. Properly used in the proper
hands, a big thick white boy dick could do wonders for a guy's life.
Promotions, pleased partners, admiration, respect, and fucking pure
unadulterated power!
The shifts started to just melt into the next when I finally got
to see what these hung guys were working with in the foot dept.
I was hoping that they weren't going to be all jacked up seeing
as they had everything else! Just as I had envisioned, they both
had them really tanned tops and creamy soles that almost seemed
like a California Blonde Person Trademark. We had stopped to take
a rest one day, and they just started pulling off shoes and socks
and I went into a sudden speechless trance. I was so close that
I swear I could almost feel the warmth and smell moist vinegar feet…
the kind of foot vinegar that is just enough to say “feet”,
and make a good humiliation but not to the point where the paint
would start peeling from the walls.
Again I got caught slipping and Lucas was like "what the fuck
are you staring at Dave? Are you fucking staring at my feet you
fucking perv fag boy”? My heart stood still and I didn't know
what to say. "Brendan did you see Dave staring at my feet like
he was in a fag weirdo trance?" Brendan said, "Maybe he's
a foot freak or fetish guy or whatever the fuck they call them!"
Lucas replied, "Nah he was strait staring like if he wanted
to make love to them! You want my feet bitch, you like guy's feet
you fag?" I said that I was just lost in a thought of something
and that I did not have any perv feet things for guys, girls, or
anything. I totally lied through my teeth, and he fucking knew it.
It wouldn’t be long though, and I was going to like, love,
and lick his feet whether I liked it or not.
The next shift I got us all in trouble because I left early and
didn't tell anybody in my crew, so they were fucking livid with
me. I thought a few times I was going to have to fight these two
young studs. Turns out they were just waiting for me to fuck up
again. They weren't going to take any chances with their standing
in our organization by trying to start a fight with me. Instead
they would patiently watch and catch me slipping a third time and
record it all for a good ol' classic episode of the age old show
Blackmail!
The next time I worked I got bored again, and decided I would leave
early.
I was not working with the two studs this time, so I thought I was
in the clear. I guess they had been following me from the start
of our shift. Apparently they had followed me all the way to my
house with camcorders in hand because all of a sudden I heard a
knock on the door and opened it to see Brendan and Lucas standing
there with ultra-white toothed wicked grins of pure power. They
pushed their way in and said that I probably should get them something
to drink, and do it fucking quickly. I was like fuck that and was
about to turn around and ask them to leave when Lucas asked where
I was today.
I told him that I was working and he said "bullshit fag footboy!
You went straight here, and we got the video to prove it."
They both sat down and put their feet up on my coffee table in almost
perfect unison. "I think you better get off your lazy work-dodging
ass and see about those drinks slave!" Lucas yelled. I asked
them what they wanted and they said they both wanted some cold water,
so I quickly gathered the water and went to sit on my lazy boy when
Brendan said for me to sit on the floor because that was going to
be his lazy boy recliner from now on.
Once I sat on the ground as he ordered, they both began to tell
me how things were going to play out. I felt so small and helpless
having to stretch my neck to see over their shoes. I would never
have to worry about seeing over their shoes again. My eyesight would
never travel any further than what was simmering inside those shoes
for the rest of the summer and on into the winter.
The situation I found myself in was far more than just getting caught
playing hooky from work. The young hung stud boys from California
were just a bit cleverer than I had anticipated. You see I had found
a way to funnel funds from the Political Non-Profit into a series
of pre-paid debit cards that did not require an SSN for validation.
When the boys saw that I was skipping work but still enjoying a
posh if not modest living they must have really went to town on
the Wheaties, Red Bulls, and an insane numbers of Google searches.
The dynamic hung duos at the ripe age of 18 had picked my operation
apart, and were ready to either get everything they thought deserved
or see me taking up residence at one of Colorado’s finest
institutions of higher criminal learning: The Colorado Department
of Corrections.
Everything was starting to make sense to me. The looks on their
beautiful chiseled faces, the increasing curt attitudes they were
taking with me, and the way they were both staring at my crotch
were all key indicators that they were ready to break things down
to me. You could almost cut the excitement in the air these two
would be Sherlock with Big Cock Holmes were bleeding from every
pore in their well-maintained bodies. The only thing that had managed
to escape these two future big cock foot masters was a simple little
truth. The two studs already possessed everything they needed to
exercise their God-given right to drop me to my knees in service
to their feet, dicks, or whatever the hell they wanted to at any
given moment in any given location on planet earth. They had the
looks, the attitude, and the essential big, thick, beautiful cock,
so the dirt on my crooked capers was really of no fucking consequence.
After presenting all the dirt to me and watching me puke several
times through their presentation, they said it was time for the
good news. Wow what good news it was. Not for me anyway. They said
I was now in only one position. That position was to give them all
the profits I had made, saved, or would make. That was just the
beginning. It was made as clear as 2 sets of size 12 feet, that
were freshly sweating sickly sweet vinegar from the pores up and
down the soles and in between the almost perfectly shaped toes,
were shoved very aggressively toward my face that I was now a foot-slave
or a foot-boy, or as they would often call me in the future, a little-dicked
foot bitch.
These boys had actually done some serious web surfing about foot
fetishes and the people that have them. It was painfully clear that
they actually correctly interpreted my bogus statement about just
zoning out for what it really was. They now knew that I was in a
zone alright. A zone of pure focus on the feet complete with an
element of drool and the start of a chub in my pants. I felt really
naked at that point. There was no hiding from the fact that Lucas
and Brendan, two hot well-endowed young guys, knew that I was into
feet and had been staring at their feet that particular day and
who knows on how many others. I knew they couldn’t know exactly
what it was about feet that I liked and fantasized about. There
was just too many facets of foot fancy for figuring what this freak
liked about em. No doubt though they had pretty much narrowed their
search to include obvious interests involving domination, servitude,
and how they involved feet. The boys did real a good job, but I
would venture to guess that the info was already a part of them.
Most very well-endowed men have a natural tendency to dominate little
dick dudes and the ones I have been dropped on my knees in front
of, always made little dick dude smell, kiss, lick, suck, massage,
clean, and groom their sweaty and sometimes filthy sock linted feet.
They seem to have this instinctive drive to always tower above their
prey and shove or otherwise smash their bare feet quite aggressively
into its fearful and always profoundly jealous face.
That’s exactly what Brendan and Lucas were starting to do.
They both had settled in their seats and finished off their drinks
I had served them, when Brendan said that my name was no longer
Dave. I was foot-boy, foot-slave, or little dick foot slut. I was
never to call myself by any other name than what they had just said.
I was to address them as Master Brendan, and Master Lucas…mostly
just master. I was to do everything they said. EVERYTHING. No questions.
If I wanted to stay out of prison, it was going to cost me very
dearly, and I was meant to serve anyway they told me. I was told
that I could thank my genes for the pathetic little dick that I
had. That little dick and my obscene foot fetish and constant desire
to actually be made to smell feet that are fresh out of shoes, were
factor numero uno primo for my position as a lowly rodent beneath
the feet of just about every guy on the fucking planet. I swear
that even your average sixth grade boy has a bigger penis than I
do.
Anyway now that we pretty much have all the necessary environmental
constructs and reasoning out of the away, let us proceed with how
far Brendan and Lucas had decided to take their blackmail of me
and how long they were going to be making me their personal foot
and cock servant. Master Brendan snapped his fingers and said that
his beautiful perfect size 12’s were very sweaty and smelly
since he had decided to drop the socks in order to really make me
know what I means to be dropped to my knees and made to smell a
master’s filthy sweaty feet in full aromatic servitude. The
smile that Master Brendan got on his face after ordering me to smell,
not kiss, not lick, not suck, just on knees with nose right in the
moist crease of a real man’s big sweaty toes taking deep nasal
breath after nasal breath smelling of his dirty lowly feet was something
of pure bliss…intoxication.
He asked me rhetorically I’m sure what it smells like, what
it’s like to be made to smell a man’s feet because that
man said so. Because that man has everything that you ever wanted,
but will never have.
Quite simply put: The boy or man that has a bigger dick than you
has the right to make you kneel down and suck his cock or smell
his feet, or both. Most of the time, almost 95% of the time, the
lesser little man smells feet and nothing more. I told him it’s
so humiliating and smells like vinegar feet. He just laughed and
told me to keep smelling until the odor has been smelled off his
feet and up my nose. When I am done doing that, I will then start
cleaning his entire foot with my tongue starting off by licking
the sole from heel to toes in continuous motion.
He told me that if my form was not deemed acceptable to him, he
would go for a walk around the block barefoot and make me start
from scratch. I totally believed his every word, and I made sure
I was paying meticulous attention to the details and contours of
my master’s awesome foot. These two guys actually had some
of the best feet I have ever seen on males, and I have honestly
seen many, many, many feet in my life. They are my life; I am constantly
scanning my field of vision for feet. Summer come back! Please!
It wasn’t but after about 10 seconds of me smelling Master
Brendan’s meaty size 12’s that he started pressing his
foot hard against my face. It seemed as though with each hearbeat
my master had his foot was shoved against my face with increasing
authority. I could hardly breathe. Every breath I took was through
my nose as he had ordered and all I could smell and taste was a
young hung studs creamy white bottomed foot sweat. He was totally
enjoying his position over me…so much so that his crotch started
to swell…his massive semi soft cock coming to life and filling
his jeans like I would forever wish mine would do.
“I bet it must really suck to have to sit on your knees while
another man almost half your age rubs his sweaty foot all over your
lips and nose while all you smell is his nasty sweaty big toe crease.
I bet you wish the tables were turned. Wishin you had what it takes
to put a man down to become your pathetic foot smeller. I can’t
wait to tell all my friends what I have…to make you serve
me like a total slave while they all watch and laugh at this poor
little dick footboy scramble for air underneath my powerful feet!”
The more he told me how pathetic I was and how much I am totally
beneath him the more his big dick was running out of space in his
jeans. He grabbed me by my hair and all of sudden pulled me up from
the floor where his feet had already made shiny red impressions
in my face and on the back of my skull where he was now standing
tall over me with the one hand pulling up on my hair against the
weight of his fucking perfect foot. “I love the way this feels
Lucas! Wait until you get to feel what this is like.” I had
all but forgot about the other master reclining like a god with
the cold beverage I had served him gripped firmly in his hand. “I
have to admit Brendan…seeing you totally dominate this little
bitch turned me the fuck on…I can’t help but think that
he literally has no fucking choice whatsoever. Either he serves
us on his hands and knees or we send a nice little package to the
feds and his ass is one a one-way non-stop to federal prison…no
good time, no early parole, just getting fucked in the ass on a
daily basis prison!”
Lucas’ words sent Master Brendan over the top. He yanked me
up from my floor seat at feet and had me straight eye-level to one
button and a long zipper. He started to grind my face into his crotch,
the button pelting my lip and the zipper catching my lip on every
tooth. He started pulling my hair hard straight back and then pulled
my face away from his throbbing dickhead. Even though I was only
up against the head of this master’s hung cock for a microsecond,
I could feel all the power driven adrenalin and excitement by the
pulsation of the blood flooding into that more than of fucking course
perfectly shaped cut monster. Once he pulled back to about a foot
away from his jeans, he slapped me cold and icy right across the
cheeks instantly sending the sharpest stinging sensation I ever
felt. He then laughs and says “I can’t fucking believe
I don’t know whether to make footboy undo my jeans with his
teeth or pull it out myself and shove it so far down his throat
that then does he truly know what a big cock is…truly gasp
for air on what he will never ever be able to pull out proudly in
front of a woman who wets her panties at even just it’s total
limp softness.!” “Fuck Brendan!” Lucas shouts
as he now has fully pulled out his totally stiff beautiful cock
and is stroking it rapidly muttering “footboy, foot slave…just
wait until I put u at my feet!”
By the look on Master Lucas’ face he was going to make me
suffer in every humiliatingly possible way that he could. I was
almost starting to fear for my physical safety. These two built
bad boys were on fucking nitro fuel right now, and were getting
more and more aggressive and physical by each punishing minute that
seemed like eternities. “Make him take it out with his teeth,
so you can grab his head with both hands and squeeze the little
footbitch’s head like the little pimple he is!” Lucas
shouted with a sinister grin. With that Master Brendan said “time
to show you why you’re really on your knees smelling feet.
Undo my jeans and uses both of your little girl hands and pull my
dick out slowly, very slowly. I want to see you counting how long
it takes to pull my big dick out of these pants and feel what it’s
like to have a dick so big and thick that girls have to wrap both
hands around it. Pull it out and just sit there and stare at it.
Stare it at it silently until I decide whether or not to make you
kiss the head and shaft and my balls before I start slapping you
silly with it. Actually I think I will shove it your mouth and so
far in your throat that you pass out from not being able to breathe.
It was all talk. Once Master Brendan had his big dick out, he slapped
me across the face with it and snapped his fingers, pointed to the
floor where his feet were waiting, and snapped “footboys don’t
get the pleasure of and privilege of a master’s cock until
he’s been smelling feet for a long fucking time!” He
shoved me back down to the floor with one foot and held my face
mashed to the cold tile. It was not but seconds later that the other
foot found my face and I was back on my knees bent over awkwardly
at the waist while his dirty smelly feet crisscrossed my face stopping
only to make sure my nose got planted in the crease as master Brendan
repeatedly ordered me to smell his big feet. “Smell, don’t
you dare lick them footboy!” Master said sternly.
“Just think that when I am finished with you at my feet. You
get do it all over again with Lucas. Every day all day serving our
every need and worshipping feet…serving at the feet of two
real men that you were so pathetically unlucky to cross paths with
and piss off…let alone have them catch you breaking the law
and now able to blackmail you into complete and utter domination
at their feet for god sakes…You know what really makes this
awesome footboy? Well answer me!”
With my self-respect long ago drowned in built bad boy foot sweat
and a mouth still full of sock lint from when Master Brendan first
shoved that sweaty size 12 he made pull from some totally beaten
down Chuck Taylor’s, I could only meekly say “what makes
it awesome master? Master Brendan chuckled and used his feet to
grip my face and make me catch his eyes that said it all. He squinted
and sneered “its so much more awesome because you are so jealous
of your masters and you can’t do a damn thing to stop it,
and you fucking know it. Any way you slice it, you know down deep
inside that you totally belong right where you are! Now tell me
where you belong and say it loud and clear!” With that command
barked to me he pulled out a mini digital recorder and recorded
with crystal clear quality my response to him. The only response
I could give…”I belong on my knees serving Master Brendan’s
and Master Lucas’ sweaty stinky feet because I am forever
jealous of them.
Master Brendan clicked the recorder and played my humiliating admission
over and over while he made me kiss both feet, rub lotion all over
them, put them in clean socks, put them back into the worn and faded
chucks, and lace them all tight and snug.
He got up from my lazy boy recliner he had taken from me and stuffed
his thick cock that was still twice as big as mine even though it
was now totally soft back into his pants and fatsened them up. He
looked at me while still on my knees, and just shook his head and
gave a superior chuckle. No sooner that he had left the front room
did I hear him talking to Lucas. He played the sound bite to him
and they both laughed.
After a few more words were exchanged, the house went silent save
for the unmistakable sound of flip-flops slapping against a moist
foot. A few more moist slaps and the sound became deafening. I knew
it was my mind amplifying the sound because I knew this sound all
too well. This was the sound made by feet that had spent a good
8-10 hours in flip flops in the last of the super sunny days. The
next thing I heard was the super deep and tough voice of Master
Lucas. This just-turned 18 year old California Surfer Boy Model
Lookalike let me know just how much homework on footboy service
he had done when he stated very rhetorically that I knew exactly
what sound his feet were making. They were making the sound made
by feet in flip-flops for 8-10 hours on a super sunny day. He also
totally knew that I knew that these feet were going to be super
black, dirty, and smelling perfectly vinegar for some pathetic footboy
to service.
My service to Master Lucas was about to begin.
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