My brother, Nathan, was very handsome. Actually, he was down right, pretty. He was pretty from his strawberry-blonde hair, his eyes like a Siberian husky, his perfectly shaped face, chest, legs, and a gorgeous huge smile. Not to mention he had very, very pretty feet. He was so adorably humble and playful, and he was never full of himself about his looks.
Personality aside, damn he had unbelievably sexy feet. The best part of his feet was probably his extra-plump toes. Or maybe it was his perfect arches. No, the best part of his feet was his soft, pink soles. I base it on years of studying his feet, since he was always barefoot. Nathan almost never wore shoes unless he was skating. Nathan’s greatest passion was skateboarding. He loved it all so much that he talked our dad into turning the in-ground pool into a skating rink, and Vans were his favorite shoes.
One summer morning I woke up late. I looked out the window and saw my brother skating. He wasn’t wearing shoes or socks. I watched as his squatted low pressing his feet hard against the board as it climbed a wall of the rink. Then he jumped. I suddenly felt nervous as the board flipped around. I couldn’t look as he was about to land and possibly injure his gorgeous feet. I looked again and saw he landed safely and proceeded to do the same thing off the other walls of the rink.
I heard him come in as I was eating my cereal at the table. He plopped in the chair opposite of me pulled the chair beside me closer to him and propped his feet on it. His bare soles were beet red.
“Hey dumbass, I think there's something called shoes!” I said, “maybe you should try them next time you're out there.”
“Shut up, dipshit,” he said. We had our stupid nicknames for each other. “Barefoot skating is the latest thing. It helps your skill. It reduces your friction and aerodynamics. It's supposed to be good for your joints, and, if nothing else, it's nice to just let ’em breathe,” Nathan said wiggling his cute toes.
“I guess it feels good on your feet too.”
“Oh, fuck, it hurts like hell. You get used to it though,” he looked at his feet and spread his toes. “I'm going to hit the shower. Meet you downstairs in a few for some Minecraft?”
“Sure,” I said. He got up and headed for the bathroom. He walked slowly and with each step I heard, “ouch, ouch.”
In our basement bedroom we played video games for maybe an hour, but then Nathan just passed out on the couch. His awesome feet hung off the end. I've always admired my brother's feet. So as I heard him snore, I snuck over to get a sniff or maybe touch his feet if I'm lucky. I moved over to his feet. I sniffed them and they smelled just awesome. I discreetly reached up and ran my fingers up and down his soles in hopes not to wake him.
After a couple of strokes nothing happened. Then I thought maybe I could give his feet a gentle massage. Then I felt him jerk a little. I jumped back and tried to pretend like nothing happened. “What are you doing, dipshit?” He looked angry like when I got caught stealing his comic books. “What do you mean, messing around with someone else’s’ feet!” I took a gulp. I must have looked so pale. Then he laughed and flashed his huge smile.
“Gotcha,” he pointed at me.
“I didn't mean no harm. It's just…” I said.
“You think I've got sexy hot feet.” He scooted down on the couch so that his feet were very close to my face. “Everyone keeps telling me I've got such a sexy body. Some say I should be a model. Girls talk about my sexy face.” He ran his hand around his face. “Girls talk about my sexy chest or my legs, and I guess since I wear flip-flops year-round, I occasionally get told I have pretty nice-looking feet.” He wiggled his toes. “I don’t see it though. It’s okay, little bro’,” he said, “I don’t care. You can rub my soles, suck on my toes a little if you want, and maybe give me a massage occasionally if you like,” I started to touch his feet. “I’ve read about how you can make your little brother your foot bitch,” he said. I pushed his feet away. He gave another point and huge, sweet, playful smile, “Gotcha again, bro.”
“Why, I might even let you tickle me for a reasonable fee,” he said.
“How much?” I eagerly asked.
“You are way too easy, dipshit.” He crawled over to me and put me in the headlock like older brothers often do. We fell on the floor and wrestled for a bit. Then when he was about to pin me completely, I reached around and started tickling his feet. He turned over on his stomach and laughed. I stopped. He turned on his side and looked at me. “We’ll let this be our little secret. So, go ahead. Have fun. Do whatever you want with my feet, and don't worry. I promise I won't make you my slave. I know how much you'd hate that.” He turned back over on his stomach and I began to massage his feet. My brother had me all wrong. I wanted to be his slave. I wanted to be at his gorgeous feet every minute of every day.
As days went by, I found myself at his feet almost all the time. We'd be playing video games in the basement and Nathan would prop his feet in my lap. I'd suddenly be in a trance to put down my control and start playing with his feet. He'd look at me with those beautiful eyes and wondered if I was enjoying it. And I was. The same would happen sitting at the table eating together. He'd prop his feet in my lap, and I'd end up eating with one hand and rubbing his feet with the other. No one else sitting at the table had a clue what was going on under the table. We'd skateboard together. He taught me all kinds of new tricks and techniques. Afterwards I’d show up in a flash with a wet rag and a pot of soap and water and I’d scrub his dirty feet for a solid half-hour. He had totally made me his slave and I loved it.
It was my birthday. After all the presents were opened, and all the food, family, and friends were gone; Nathan asked me to meet him in the basement. We sat on the couch together.
“So, bro, can I ask you something about our little arrangement?” He asked. I gave a curious nod. “Do you like tickling?” This had to be an ultimate gotcha moment. I had to think about it. It sounded very unusual, and very kinky. I wouldn’t describe myself as kinky, but maybe it was worth a try. “Um, I didn’t like tickling when we were younger. But, I might like it now.”
“Not you. Me.” He raised his foot up and crossed it over his lap with his sole facing me. Then he put his arm around me and said, “Would you tickle these gorgeous peds?” I hesitated.
“No I’m serious.” He put his feet in my lap. “Come on. Give ‘em a tickle.” I tickled just like he asked. I laughed and he laughed a little. He pulled his feet away. “Bro, come on I mean really, really tickle me.”
“Ok,” I smiled. I took his legs and put them in a headlock-like position. Then I reached around and started tickling a little harder. He laughed a lot harder and louder. “Is this what you’re looking for, dumbass? Huh, dumbass?” He tapped on me and signaled for me to stop.
With that cuter than a puppy smile, he stood. “Okay, now you got it. Come on. Let’s go over to the bed.” He was holding a couple of ropes, a feather, and a battery powered toothbrush. “Say, say what, what, now?” I raised my eyebrows and stuttered. “Yeah,” he said. “We take these little ‘toys,’” he made the hand quotes, “and we have some real tickle fun!” He followed with a diabolical laugh. I never heard that laugh before. “Okay, you’ve definitely lost it. You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I said.
My brother gave me a more serious look. He walked over to the bed and sat down. He took the ropes and tied his feet together and wrapped a rope around them. They looked like they were going to turn red. He was going to cut the circulation off to his feet.
“Does this look like I'm messing with you?” He asked. I froze. “Happy Birthday, dipshit,” he said in his playful tone. “Come on, enjoy your birthday present.” He tossed me another string with the toothbrush and feather.
“What’s the other rope for?” I asked. He held out his hands. “I’m not sure if tying you up is…” I hesitated.
“Tie my hands and legs together, faggot! Hog tie me, damn it!” he said. He said in an almost angry voice.
“What did you just call me?” I said as I tied his wrists tight together.
“That’s right,” he said, “You’re nothing but a foot loving faggot. You live to worship my feet. Don’t you!”
“Yes, I do!” I said playing along. “So, what’s your pleasure? Feather or toothbrush?” What did I know what to do?
“Come on, faggot! You’re the master, I’m at your mercy.”
“Don’t call me faggot. You uh, uh…pussy!” It was the best I could come up with.
“Good” He nodded, “Hey and if you really want to make it more interesting, why don’t you go over to the dirty laundry basket, reach down to the bottom and grab one of your dirtiest socks. Then come gag me with it.” I did just as he said.
I tickled him first with my fingers, then with the feather, and finally the spinbrush. He laughed, squirmed, jerked all around, and begged me for more. Each time I stopped, I could hear him say with my filthy sock in his mouth, “Come on, is that the best you got, faggot!” and I’d follow, with “Shut up, pussy boy.”
Was it me or was Nathan still the master even though he was tied up? If I wanted, I could have stopped, and got a drink of water. Or I could have just left him lying there tied up all night or even days. I could have instantly taken control, but I didn’t. I wanted to be at his feet, licking them clean, and tickling them non-stop. He called me faggot and it turned me on like nothing ever turned me on before. My brother had successfully turned me into a total faggot foot slave, and I wanted to be more than that.
I finally stopped laughing and tickling. Nathan stopped laughing. I took my dirty sock of his mouth. “That was awesome, bro,” he said catching his breath.
“It was amazing,” I said as I untied him.
“No hard feelings about me calling you a faggot?” he said as I knew he was being playful when he said it, “I kinda got caught up in the moment.”
“Not at all,” I said, “In fact, I think I prefer faggot over dipshit.”
“You’re sure? Okay. I’ll call you faggot from now on,” he patted me on the shoulder. “Come on, faggot. Let’s go watch TV.” As we walked over to the couch I said, “I’ve been thinking. How about instead of dumbass, I start calling you sir?” We sat on the couch. Without looking at me he turned on the TV, “If that’s what you want I’m cool with it.” As I got comfortable sitting next to him, I felt Nathan’s strong legs behind me and I was suddenly on the floor flat on my back. I tried to get up, but his strong skater feet and legs slammed me flat on the ground directly below him.
“On your hands and knees.” Nathan said. I raised up on my knees as he demanded. Then as I brought my head up, he pushed my head down with his foot to where I was on my hands and knees with my back arched. I sat motionless and he placed his awesome feet on my back. My brother was using my whole back as a foot stool. It was my ultimate fantasy coming true. “You comfortable, faggot?” Nathan asked as I felt his heels move back and forth on my spine. I remained perfectly still with a smile I said, “Yes, sir!”
