Foot Slave

Copyright 2006 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author’s permission.

As an author, I welcome feedback on my writing. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herb_Cat@mailcity.com. Thank you.
—–

The Foot Slave

As I drove the twenty miles from home to the motel, I kept asking myself,
“Am I stupid or what?” Did I know what I was getting into? No! What did I
really know about this ‘Bigfoot?’ Nothing!

The evening before I had logged into one of my favorite chat rooms. I
decided on the userid ‘footslave_dc.’ I wanted others to know exactly
what I was looking for. I love feet. Bare feet. Socked feet. Boots. They
all get me hot. I can just be looking at a guy’s bare feet on the beach
and pop a boner. It can be very embarrassing. At my gym, I love finding
forgotten socks in the locker room. I press them to my nose and inhale
the rich foot aromas, then if I think no one is around, I jerk off right
into the sock. What can I say, I’m a foot junkie! I purposely used all
lowercase for my userid to underscore my subservient attitude. And I
threw in the dc to indicate my location.

Well, I wasn’t online five minutes before ‘Bigfoot’ sends me a private
message. Seems he is a size 12. I was getting excited at my keyboard. And
he was in College Park. Fuck, I was hot. I took on a totally submissive
role with him, using lowercase i for my own pronoun, and always
addressing him as Sir, uppercase S. He responded in kind, giving me
orders online. He insisted I send him a pic of myself and I did. He
demanded that I strip off all my clothes, and I did as if he were right
in my room. He made me play with myself as I wrote long, flowery praises
to his feet. He described his feet in great detail to me. How his second
toe is longer than his big toe. How he keeps his nails neatly trimmed.
Then he said he’d like to take my little cock between his two bare feet,
and that did it – I splooged right on my keyboard.

Then he tells me he has three buddies, all with larger feet than his. He
said that all four of them enjoy having their feet attended by true
foot-worshippers, and would I be able to meet them the following evening
for a session that he promised would be worth my time. I couldn’t believe
it. It was a dream come true. He gave me the address of the motel and
ordered me to arrive exactly at 9:30. He also spelled out in detail what
was expected of me.

As soon as I got home from work the next day, I began fantasizing about
the evening. I blew three loads just thinking about those eight feet and
how I intended to lick them and kiss them and smell them and taste them
and feel them and massage them. I took a long shower and made sure my own
body had no odors that would mask the delicious smells of those feet. I
even douched my asshole. Hell, I thought, maybe I’d get lucky and one of
those guys will take his big foot and fuck me with it.

When I left my apartment, it was only a quarter past eight, way too early
for a mere forty minute drive, but I didn’t want to chance getting lost
and arriving late. Anyway, I was too excited to sit home any longer.

But as I drove, I began to realize what a tremendous chance I was taking.
Bigfoot hadn’t sent me his picture. I had no idea who this was. I should
have asked to meet him in a public place first. But I wasn’t the one
giving orders. I was taking them. Maybe this was a setup. Maybe Bigfoot
and his pals were going to rob me. Ha! I had less than twenty bucks in my
wallet. Maybe they’d steal my car. More likely, maybe this was just a
wild goose chase. Maybe Bigfoot got off on imagining cumbuckets like me
driving around on his command, going to a motel, and never finding
anyone. But, Fuck, I thought, I’ve gone this far, I may as well see it
through to the end. If Bigfoot was leveling with me, then it was
certainly going to be worth it.

I found the motel well before nine. I wasn’t late, thank God. But I
couldn’t be early either. My orders were to knock on the room door at
9:30 exactly. Hell, I couldn’t be early even if I wanted to. I had no
clue what room they were in. As Bigfoot had ordered, I brought my pager
with me. He had my number. Just before 9:30, they were going to buzz my
pager and give me the room number. So I had a half hour to kill.

I spotted a Dunkin Donuts across the street from the motel and pulled in
there. I ordered a large cup of hightest and sat down to sip it slowly. I
didn’t want to have any doughnuts. All that sweet glaze and filling would
interfere with the sweet flavor of feet my tastebuds were about to
experience. I kept looking at the clock on the wall, and then at my
watch. One seemed to move slower than the other. I also kept playing with
my crotch. I was really getting hot.

I finished my coffee, and went into the tee room. I resisted the
temptation to jerk off, cause I wanted to be ready for my evening.
Instead I pissed and then rinsed the coffee aroma out of my mouth. I
checked myself in the mirror, and then stepped out. The clock on the wall
said 9:22. I drove across the street and waited in the motel lot, for the
longest five minutes of my life. At 9:27, my pager beeped and the message
read 302. I pulled the car around to unit 302, got out and knocked on the
door.

———-

“It’s him,” announced the tall burly man who opened the door. I assumed
this was “Bigfoot,” but he didn’t introduce himself himself. Bigfoot had
gotten my picture and would be able to identify me for the sake of his
buddies. Bigfoot had taken all the precautions. I had taken none. He had
my pager number and I’m sure, had I not arrived as ordered he would have
made my life a living hell.

Bigfoot turned his back to me and went back to the poker game in
progress. I closed the door behind me and silently began slipping off all
my clothes as I had been instructed the previous night. I had memorized
all of Bigfoot’s orders and was determined to fulfill them to the letter.
I arranged my clothes in a neat pile on the floor beside the door, and
then approached the table.

No one spoke to or looked at me, and I was not to acknowledge them. I was
merely an object, a piece of furniture. Like the bed in the room, I was
there for their comfort. Like the TV, I was there for their amusement.
Like the deck of cards they dealt, I was a toy for them to play with. And
like the toilet in the bathroom, I was a receptacle for their manjuices.
At this point, mine was the only naked body in the room.

I knelt on the floor beside Bigfoot. As I said, he was tall and burly. He
wore a denim vest, with no shirt, open to expose a chest rug of thick
dark fur. He had on blue jeans, loafers and no socks. I bent over and
held his shoes as he slipped his feet out. I took a sniff of them, then
placed them away from the table, out of the way, and began caressing his
beautiful big feet. He did keep his nails neatly trimmed. And his second
toe did extend out farther than the others. Two things he had not
mentioned in the chat room: his feet were covered in hair, and his big
toe seemed especially dexterous, moving independent of the others. I bent
down and kissed them. They were deliciously sweaty. Once I felt his
finger tracing my bare crack, seemingly absent-mindedly. I began to relax
now, — my fears for the evening were evidently unfounded. I licked his
toes and began to listen to their conversation.

They spoke about the game, what shitty hands they had, how one or the
other was going to lose his shirt. They spoke about their boring jobs,
the upcoming Senators game, and the fuckin congress. What I was most
listening for were clues to their names. “Toss me another beer, Ted.” And
the man closest to the minifridge reached over and pulled out a cold one.
I wanted to get all four men pegged.

When Harold’s feet, that is Bigfoot, were thoroughly soaked in my saliva,
I moved on to Jimmy. Jimmy was a dark black man in a suit – maybe a
professional. He spoke very deliberately, like a professor or something.
His tie was loosened, but he still had his jacket on. I untied his black
wingtips and slipped them off and then took his black hose off. He had
immense feet, the soles wonderfully lighter than the rest of his skin.
They too were sweaty with that tasty aroma only an African knows how to
emit. I went to work, suckling each black toe like it were a mini black
dick. I glanced up to see his free black hand massaging his crotch.

I was in no rush. I gave each man’s feet sufficient attention before
moving on. In due time, I left Jimmy for Gary. This was the skinniest of
the four. I never heard his name, but he had a namepatch on his work
shirt, which he had already doffed and thrown over the back of his chair.
He sat in a tank top and denim cutoffs, a marked contrast to the formal
Jimmy by his side. He wore sneakers and white athletic socks. I untied
his sneakers, loosened the laces, and he slid his feet out. But when I
went to take off his socks, he pulled his feet away. OK, so he wants to
keep them on, I thought. I can live with that. I rubbed my hands along
his slender feet as I kissed the socks, licked the socks, sucked the
socks. The wetter the socks got, the more pronounced were the features of
his feet; just like wet underwear reveals a man’s basket.

Lastly, I got to Ted, the beer dispenser. Ted was the cowboy. He wore a
red plaid shirt, tight crotch hugging jeans with a big belt buckle. And
boots. Fabulous, pointy hand carved, high heel boots. When he saw me
coming, he turned in his seat and stuck one leg straight out. I got up
off the floor, straddled his leg with my ass pointed toward him and
tugged off his boot. No sock. He slapped my ass like I was his pony. Then
the same procedure on the other foot. After carefully parking this pair
beside the bed, I got back on the floor and licked the cowboy sweat off
Ted’s huge feet, being careful to lick thoroughly in between all the
toes.

I was really hot by this time. Fully erect. I had serviced each man
individually, and there was an atmosphere pervading the room that some
more intense action was soon to follow. For one thing, they seemed to
winding up their poker game. Ted and Jimmy spoke of having lost their
shirts even though they were the two men still wearing shirts. I decided
I might soon need a cum rag so I went into the bathroom to grab a towel.
I looked at my hardon in the mirror and gave myself an appreciative grin.

———-

When I came back out, sure enough the cards, and chips had disappeared.
So had Jimmy’s jacket and tie, Gary’s undershirt, and Harold’s jeans.
Gary was folding up the card table. Ted was unbuckling his belt. Soon
enough, he dropped trou. No undies. Except for his shirt, he was now as
naked as I. But the strangest thing – he sat his lovely ass down on the
bed and put one of his big pointy cowboy boots back on. Then all four
pulled up their chairs and sat in a square. I laid the towel on the floor
in the middle of this foursome and set my ass down on it. I was laying
face up, flat on the floor except for my knees which I kept bent. Soon
enough Jimmy’s big black foot was on my face. I reached up and grabbed
his trouser leg as I licked his sole and satisfied my soul. I felt Gary’s
socked foot petting my dick. That was all I needed to begin releasing
prejizz. As I oozed, he kept wiping my dickhead dry on his sock.

Next I felt a naked foot was poking at my asshole. I spread my legs
wider. I peeked out from under Jimmy’s foot and saw Ted above my
shoulder, wanking away. You know the old adage, “Big feet, Big … ”
Well, yes, his central appendage was as ample as his lower extremities.
So I deduced it was Harold’s talented big toe poking at my shithole. When
Jimmy stood up, Ted put his booted foot on my face, standing on the bare
one. Jimmy took his suit pants off, and I saw that gorgeous black body
contrasting with his bright tighty whities. He too was stroking his cock
through his briefs, until his black sausage could take the confinement no
longer and insisted on coming up and out over the elastic waistband.

I felt the sock pull away from my dick and it was soon replaced by one of
Jimmy’s feet. His toes took my cock in their vice grip. Meanwhile skinny
Gary got out of his cutoffs, and joined the wanking party three feet over
my chest. Now it was Harold’s turn to strip. He pulled his foot out of my
ass just long enough to doff his undies, then quickly rammed it back in
while he removed his vest. I wanted him to go deeper and shit, he wanted
that also, so Jimmy and Gary each grabbed one of my knees and pulled them
back over my chest to give Bigfoot’s big foot the clearance it needed.
I’d had dildos, and plenty of cocks, as well as a fist once, but I had
never been fucked by a big toe. I closed my eyes in ecstasy.

“That’s it, Bigfoot,” I heard Ted say, “Spread that hole up as wide as
you can.” Ted took his boot off my face and I watched him go over to the
dresser and get a can of crisco. Like I said, I had been fisted once so I
thought I knew what was coming. But I was wrong.

Jimmy was still gripping my cock in his tight toes, Harold was still
toe-fucking my asshole, and Gary now had one sock on my face. All three
were wanking hard. Suddenly, Ted said, “OK, get it ready.” The three
others stopped what they were doing and pulled my knees back to my ears
leaving my ass in the air wide open. Then I felt Ted’s hand spreading
huge gobs of lard on and in my ass. From experience, I knew enough to
relax. As he inserted a finger, then two, then three, I breathed easily,
allowed my sphincter to open and waited for the penetration to come. But
then just when I thought I’d feel his fist, Big Jimmy grabbed my
shoulders and Gary and Harold each held a leg and lifted me up. “OK,” Ted
ordered, “Nice and slow.” I was looking at the ceiling and the three of
them slowly lowered me until i felt my asshole touch something hard. With
all the crisco, the something began to penetrate easily, but it wasn’t a
fist, it wasn’t a dildo. I was getting fucked by a fuckin p! ointed
cowboy boot! Once I realized what was entering me, I was in ecstasy. I
let loose a huge wad of jizz that spurted up on my chest.

The three now let go of me. There I was impaled on Ted’s boot. I propped
myself with my hands on the floor, and looked right at my cowboy. He was
sitting bare assed on the floor, his shirt still on but open showing his
lovely pecs. And he was loving the fact that his boot was in my ass. He
was working away on that sidearm he kept between his legs. The others
were all standing above us, jerking hard. Jimmy was the first to explode,
spraying his splooge all over my face. As soon as he got off two or three
loads, he went back to gripping my cock with his toes. Then Harold
exploded first on my chest, then on the top of my head. After that, he
got a chair, sat down and stuck his foot in my face. He smooged the cum
from my face on to his sole, and then gave it to me to lick off. Gary
aimed his cum right on to my dick and Jimmy’s foot. Then he put his
socked foot on my abs and pressed down to make sure I was fully impaled
on Ted’s boot. Finally Ted too erupted spraying his cum ! all the way
down his legs to my thighs.

I was lifted off of the boot. Jimmy and Gary retreated to the bed and
began kissing and fondling each other’s cocks. Ted had me remove the boot
again, and I began to lick it, tasting the crisco mixed with my asshole
juice, and sniffing the warm leather. By now, Harold was on the bed
getting ready to fuck Jimmy who was still kissing Gary. Ted, barefoot
again, also joined them laying down in a position to scissor fuck Gary.
From my position on the floor, all I could see were eight scrumptious
feet sticking out off the end of the bed, and I crawled over to make the
most of this buffet. I went back and forth from one foot to the next,
often tasting two at once, while the owners of these feet fucked the shit
out of each other.

Ted now got in the doggy position but made sure his feet still stuck off
the bed for me. Gary climbed on top of him so I could lick his socks
while he fucked Ted. Harold however stood at the end of the bed and bent
over it so Jimmy could fuck him standing up. I licked their feet on the
floor. Position after position, each man fucked and got fucked in this
orgy while I gorged my appetite on feet.

“OK, Men,” Harold announced, “It’s midnight. Time to make this Cinderella
a pumpkin again.” They all chuckled. Jimmy pushed me down so my face was
on the floor and my ass was high in the air. Harold gave me his feet to
lick one final time, and I felt someone fuck my ass, which was still a
little sore from the boot. I felt his cum fill me, then a second cock
entered and another pair of feet was given to me to lick. One by one,
each man fucked the footslave and got a final footbath. Then Jimmy kicked
my ass over to the door. I grabbed my clothes, and was literally kicked
out the door.

As I drove home, my chest, head, abs and thighs were crusted in dying
jizz. My bare asshole was oozing wet jizz on to the car seat. And my head
was swimming in images of sneakers, socks, wingtips, loafers, boots, and
big, gorgeous, hairy, aromatic, delicious masculine feet!