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<Authoritarian, m/m, high school, feet>
SERVANT TO A SOCCER STUD CHAPTER 19
We were in the middle of January. Cold. Christmas break was a trip, with Brad and Tommy returning for basically a longer version of Thanksgiving weekend. Tommy's mouth and my mouth were used to provide Brad and Kyle prolonged pleasure. I got to spend more time with my first ever boyfriend. In fact, Brad ordered Tommy to pay for a ski trip just for the four of us over New Year's. Tommy had to pay for the most luxurious lodging slope-side at the nearby ski resort. The place had two bedrooms with two king beds, one for each king, a kitchen and a living room. Tommy and I did not ski, however, We were there to be Brad and Kyle's servants. So while Brad and Kyle shred powder, Tommy and I enjoyed some alone time together.
In addition, each day we cooked a hot dinner and beverages ready for the Petersons upon their return. After a long day of athletic activity, followed by alcohol, Brad and Kyle would return to the room, peel off their snowboard boots, and use our tongues as washcloths per usual. While they ate the food we cooked, we ate the toe jam and lint off the studs' feet. The Petersons' soccer feet smelled bad enough; these feet cooped up all day in thick wool socks and snowboard boots had a unique fragrance and flavor all to their own. The rest of the evening was full of sweat, cum, piss (beer piss was great), and farts, that is, Brad and Kyle produced sweat, cum, piss, and farts, while Tommy and I inhaled (by nose or mouth, as applicable) every molecule of what Brad and Kyle produced. Each morning, before they headed back out to the slopes, they each dumped another load of cum in our throats after we deep throated their morning wood passionately and respectfully. These athletes were born to have fun and outperform, and Tommy and I swelled with pride being able to contribute our sex organs (our mouths) to help in that important mission. At the end of the trip, of course Brad and Kyle did not (and did not have to) thank us for our services. Brad simply grunted, "Fag 2, load up the car and get ready to drive us back." For his part, Kyle ordered, "Fag 1, go help fag 2."
Once Brad and Tommy left to go back to university, Kyle resumed his focus on abusing and humiliating me. His focus was now even more so on my mouth and the numerous ways to make my mouth his sex toy, cum dump, and toilet. And of course I obeyed enthusiastically, always going out of my way to show and tell Kyle just how much I appreciated whatever he dished out. And I was doing chores for him a lot more now: (1) cleaning his room; (2) making and serving him meals (a ton of breakfasts in bed, a ton); (3) doing his laundry (his mom easily could have done his laundry along with the rest of the family's, but Kyle went out of his way to add to my burden); and (4) buying nice clothes and shoes for him (on my dime of course, but shipped directly to his house -- he never thanked me for buying these items for him, never once even acknowledged these gifts; once he commanded me to get the item he wanted, it was simply to be delivered on time to him, and since that always happened (or else), there was no reason for Kyle or me to talk about it afterwards).
A variant of these services was Kyle's use of my mouth while he was doing homework. Homework was a pain, so why not use his personal gay comfort boy to make it more enjoyable. I would crawl under Kyle's desk, sit Indian style (he would've had me on my knees but the space down there was just too cramped), and put his soft cock in my mouth. My lips were not allowed to leave his cock for even one second. (If it did, he would beat me.) At the same time, until he commanded, I was not allowed to get him hard. Now, as we all know, especially for a horny teenage boy, his cock could harden easily for almost no reason; imagine how easy it is for his cock to harden with a warm mouth wrapped around it. So very often, his cock did start to get hard, and then he would blame me for it, and then he would beat me for that offense, too. His creativity in torturing me was boundless. It was so unfair. One strategy I tried to keep his cock soft was to remain perfectly still and not apply any sucking or licking to his cock. But he didn't like that, either. Only he, not I, was allowed to "game the system." So he'd command me to do tongue gymnastics on his cock, or suck all the way down, etc. There was then absolutely no way to keep his cock soft, and then we were back to him beating me for getting him hard and distracting him from doing his homework -- even though the whole point of my mouth was to distract him from homework. Kyle would sometimes play this game with me for hours. As expected, during these torture sessions, my dick typically stayed rock hard the entire time.
Often he'd rub his barefoot against my throbbing dick getting my precum all over his foot. Then he'd say, "Yuck, I don't want your faggot pre-cum on my alpha feet, you gay fuck. Lick that clean now, bitch." And since he had to move his chair back to stick his toes in my mouth, he'd then slap me silly for distracting him again from his homework. When Kyle was finally ready to shoot his load, he'd command, "All right, you worthless cunt, get me off." Usually, he'd jump on his bed where he would be more comfortable, and usually within 5 minutes (since my mouth had already been working his cock in varying degrees of hardness for an hour or more), he would cum straight down my waiting throat.
Then, if I was lucky, Kyle would let me go home, or do my homework from his house (usually on the floor). If I wasn't lucky, I'd be back down at Kyle's feet, but not before Kyle followed his cum deposit with a deposit of his piss down my throat, too. Alas, my grades were starting to suffer but I managed the best I could. Pleasing Kyle was even more important than my own future. That sounds ridiculous, but people do crazy things all the time for their #1 crush, and my DNA made me a total gay sub for this hot straight stud. Since cross country hadn't started yet, all my time was devoted to school, homework, and Kyle. I spent almost no time with friends unless Kyle was there. I spent less and less time with my family. Only with that approach could I both keep up with Kyle and not flunk out of junior year -- which happens to be the most important year for college admission. I could see the topic my college essay: my life's worth was as a sex slave to my classmate, Kyle Peterson.
The breakfasts in bed were "fun", too. My mouth was never eating food when Kyle was eating. Instead, my mouth would be "eating" his feet, his cock, or wherever else Kyle commanded me to worship him (still not once above the waist). With these sessions, Kyle would almost always dump his morning wood cum on the scraps of food left on his plate, then make me savor his cum-coated eggs, bacon, potatoes, milk, juice, or some of all of the above. Once he made me peel a banana, he came on the banana, and made me give a blowjob to that cum-coated banana for 5 long minutes before ordering me to eat the whole thing down. And as I was eating these scraps, of course I would shout enthusiastically: "MMMMMM! Master Kyle, this tastes so, so much better with your cum on it. Thank you so much for gifting me your cum, my great Master." Usually, since I was on my knees bent down on the floor inhaling the cum-covered "food", Kyle would proceed to step on the back of my head or neck with his smelly bare foot and mash my face in the cum-flavored delight. Even as he did that, I would try my best to stick out my tongue and lick up whatever my tongue could reach in that cramped, uncomfortable position.
So that's how I usually give Master his evening and next-morning blowjobs now. In between those routine sessions, he would fuck me, make me eat his ass, or just get in an off-schedule blowjob whenever he wanted. I would estimate that Kyle cums about 7.5 mL of semen per ejaculation (like a stud, that's well above average). Doing the rough math, I ate his sperm twice a day, so 15 mL a day for about 130 days since the start of the school year, and we're at about 2 L of his jizz I have swallowed. That's a full 2 L soda bottle of his "milk" that he has already dumped in my belly with a hell of a lot more to come. Think about that for a second. I have drank a full soda bottle's volume of Kyle's cum in just a little over 4 months.
Cleaning Kyle's room also became a source of immense enjoyment for Kyle. First, I had to get completely naked, so he could make fun of my hard, desperate dick, among other things. Second, I always had to tie his stinkiest shoe (usually the one he just kicked off) or his stinkiest sock (again, usually the one he ordered me to peel off), or both to my face (the sock would go on first, or sometimes be crumpled inside the shoe, and then secured against my nose using a spare shoe lace). Then he'd relax with a book, his phone, or a video game, while I picked up after him, vacuumed his carpet, dusted the furniture, changed his sheets, etc. When I was done, with the shoe/sock apparatus still tied to my face, I would beg Kyle for permission to make out with his feet. The begging often lasted a while, while Kyle either ignored me or asked me questions like, "Why the fuck should I let you, you piece of shit fag?" My response to such questions would be, as always, to shower his feet with the most out-of-this-world compliments -- about how beautiful they looked, how awesome they smelled, and how delicious they tasted.
Once Kyle begrudgingly gave me permission (he had a particular knack for making me feel like the sex services I was providing him were 1,000% as a favor to me, and that he was a very reluctant participant even though he was receiving 1,000% of the normal male pleasure -- my own pleasure, while immense given what my DNA craved, was not normal for a real man), I'd worship his feet in whatever way the shoe/sock apparatus didn't get in the way, so I was usually limited to toe sucking and toe jam cleaning for a while. Eventually, Kyle would flick the apparatus with his toes, which meant it was time to take it off and resume full worship of Kyle's size 11.5 bare feet. Then the real make out session could begin, as I lovingly and lustfully French kissed every inch of those alpha feet. Often when alone, I would think about that phenomenon: I truly made mouth love to some dude's dirty, nasty feet like I was married to them.
Anyway, once Kyle told me to keep my face in place while he tried to kick the apparatus off my face. This did not work since I had the shoe lace tied tight to my face to avoid having the apparatus fall off (a major no-no), but now that Kyle wanted it off, he didn't care how much it hurt my face as he kicked and kicked against his shoe. Eventually he impatiently kicked my face hard via the bottom of his shoe, and said, "Worthless faggot. Take my shoe off your face, loser, and get the fuck back up here."
So anyway, sorry about the long-ish break since the last chapter, and the shortness of this chapter, but I have so little time to write now given Kyle's ever-greater dominance over my time. Also, I did not tell Kyle I was writing these stories, and at this point, it's too late to tell him since I've kept it hidden from him for so long. Hopefully Kyle never finds his way to nifty because that may just be the death of me. But I also know you guys love reading about the latest in the many ways I serve this young, gorgeous, virile straight stud with a huge cock and stinky jock feet. Hopefully the next installment will not take me as long, but it's all up to how much spare time my Master lets me have these days.
TO BE CONTINUED ...