His Old Boots

Ben went home and walked into the living room. His head felt numb and his thoughts were distant, in a comfortable haze of submission. He placed the old boots on the coffee table and sat on the couch, with a blank expression on his face.

He couldn't believe what had just happened. He had a little crush on George, but he never thought he would ever touch his straight friend in any way. And George seemed to enjoy dominating and humiliating him for his own amusement. The image of his friend's hard boner still gravitated inside his mind.

He sat on the couch for a while, like a zombie, and then walked to the bathroom and took a shower, like George had ordered.

The next day, Ben went to work and he didn't think much about what had happened, because he had a lot of things to do. By the end of the afternoon, though, he received a message from George.

"Hey, foot fag. I'm coming to your place."

Ben didn't even have time to make dinner or get ready for anything, and he heard George's vehicle rumbling in the distance, getting louder and louder, approaching the front door. His heart started to beat faster.

When Ben opened the door, George smirked and walked inside as if he was entering his own house, almost bumping his big shoulder into Ben.

"How's it going?" asked George, casually.

"I'm fine. Is everything okay, George?"

George walked toward him and his face was suddenly very close.

"You call me sir, from now on."

"Are you serious?"

"You bet. Our little friendship changed a little, yesterday," mocked George, with a hot tone of sarcasm in his deep voice.

"What do you mean?"

George took a deep breath and then smirked again, and looked at Ben from top to bottom, putting him down with his gaze, fucking with him.

"You are my foot fag, now. I can say or do whatever I want to you, and you will call me sir, every time," stated George, intensely.

A strange excitement ran through Ben's body and mind. He looked at George's masculine, sweaty face, and his thick stubble, and felt the warmth coming from his meaty blue collar body. He decided he wanted to give in. He wanted to participate in George's little game.

"Yes... sir," mumbled Ben.

"Say that again?" provoked George.

"Yes, sir. I'm your foot fag, now," said Ben, loud and clear.

George chuckled in his face.

"Good boy."

George looked around and noticed his old boots on the coffee table.

"Huh! What do we have here? Are you taking good care of them?" mocked George, sitting comfortably on the couch, his legs spread wide.

Ben noticed George was sweaty, after a long day of work, and he was still wearing his construction uniform, and the new expensive boots Ben had bought for him.

George crossed his legs on the coffee table and snapped his fingers to Ben, as if Ben was a dog.

"On your knees, bitch boy."

Ben obeyed, kneeling on the other end of the table and staring at George's boots.

"I want to try something... My dick got hard just thinking about it."

Ben looked at him, silently waiting.

"I want to see your dumb face cleaning my dirty soles."

"Yes, sir," said Ben, moving his hands toward the opening of George's boots.

"Not my feet, you idiot. The soles of my boots."

Ben opened his mouth in shock and stuttered.

"B-but..."

George laughed loudly.

"B-but..." he mocked. "I knew you'd love that. Do it now."

"Sir, you've been working in them all day. The soles are so dirty," protested Ben, as he observed the bottom of George's soles - they were filled with dry mud from the construction site, where all the men stepped on all day.

"I don't give a fuck. Get to licking and cleaning my boots, right now. Pussy boys like you are beneath real men like me. I don't feel the need to hide that information from you anymore."

"Sir -"

"Kiss my sole! Now!" barked George.

Ben jumped a little and the shock was enough to make him obey. He moved his face quickly toward George's dirty right boot and planted a loud smooch on his sole.

"Again, pussy!"

Ben started kissing the soles rapidly, going from the left boot to the right boot. He could feel the earthy smell of mud and a slight hint of foot sweat. His lips became numb pretty quickly, as he planted strong, wet kisses all over his alpha friend's big soles. George kept swearing and bullying him and Ben slowly started to break, for George's amusement.

"Good bitch," said George, in a deep, raspy voice, and he smacked Ben on the cheeks a few times. "Now stick out that little tongue."

"Please, sir... no," begged Ben, all squeamish.

"Stick out your tongue, fucktard," threatened George, planting a foot smack on Ben's face.

Ben looked down in shame and his eye teared up a bit. He couldn't believe that a small part of him enjoyed it - he secretly enjoyed being bullied by George, and now George knew it.

"What's the matter, Ben? You don't want my big stinking feet in your mouth anymore?" asked George, impatiently.

"I want it, sir. I apologize, sir," said Ben, pathetically.

George's eyes glinted - he was clearly enjoying his new power over his poor little friend.

"Tongue out, doggy," the alpha ordered.

Ben obeyed, exposing his wet tongue like a puppy in front of his new god. George grinned like a mean bastard, savoring his power.

"Lick the dirt off my boots," he whispered.

Ben licked George's left sole from the heel to the toe cap. The dirt felt rough on his tongue. He repeated the action on the right sole, turning his tongue into a little wash-rag for George's big boots.

"Fuck yeah. Clean every inch. I can't believe you're actually cleaning my soles," mocked George, as he brought his hands to the back of his head, exposing sweaty pit stains on his shirt.

Ben kept lapping the bottom of the boots, and he couldn't help but notice how strong and thick George's arms were - how masculine and superior he was. He felt so broken, being the little bitch at the bottom of an alpha's shoes.

"Yeah, polish my boots, idiot. Make them shine for me."

Ben used his saliva to wash away the dirt and sand off the soles and his raw, red tongue to scrub the surface. He kept licking and slurping for what felt like thirty minutes, until George was satisfied and his hard boner pulsed inside his sweaty pants.

George burped loudly, making Ben jump a little.

"Remove my boots, fuckface."

Ben gladly took the opportunity to rest his poor tongue, and comfortably removed the new big boots from George's large feet. They made a slight wet sound and his big dogs slid out, covered in black, sweaty socks.

"Ahhh," George released a sigh of relaxation, as he wiggled his toes in front of Ben's face.

Ben could immediately feel the stench of George's hard, sweaty day in the sun.

"Your new friends won't last long against my big feet. They already stink pretty bad," said George, confidently. He seemed proud of how much stench his beefy steppers could produce.

"Yes, sir. They stink a lot, already," confirmed Ben.

"Yeah, and I bet you love that," mocked George.

"Yes, sir. I love your superior foot stench, sir," replied Ben, pathetically.

Ben laughed in his face and grabbed the cuff of his right sock.

"Get your face closer, but don't touch them," ordered George, raising his left foot right in front of Ben's face.

George proceeded to slowly peel off his sock right in Ben's stupefied face. The strong, sweaty smell of masculine toe jam invaded his nostrils. He found that humiliation somehow erotic. He observed the movement, as the damp black sock slowly revealed Ben's left sole - a big, meaty, red and sweaty sole.

"Hold it, hold it," threatened George, keeping Ben away from his foot about an inch or two. "Take the smell. Look at my dirty soles. Look right at them. Look at the dirt and the sock lint... I bet you want to sniff and lick them. Hold it, hold it."

The sock was pulled away and Ben saw the black sock lint between George's toes, soaked in his toe jam.

"Please, sir, let me kiss them," begged Ben.

"Yeah... you fucking pussy. Don't you dare touch my feet."

George kept teasing him and raised his other foot and repeated the action. The other sock was slowly peeled off, revealing another large, manly sole right in front of his face. He felt a strong urge to suck on it like a desperate dog, but he was afraid George would smack him again if he disobeyed.

The sock was lifted completely and George wiggled his toes right beneath Ben's nostrils, and the smell was strong and offensive, with a nice hint of testosterone, like a real man's feet should smell. Ben's feet had never smelled like that.

George shoved both socks inside the boots and relaxed on the sofa, moving his feet in front of Ben's face, teasing him with a bastard's smile.

"Now put them on me," said George, pointing to the old boots. "No socks. I'll cook a special meal for you. Let's see how these bad boys smell tomorrow, inside my old friends and sockless in the sun. And you bet I won't wash my feet today." George threatened, an evil grin on his bearded face.

Ben couldn't believe how far they were going. George was stretching his limits and enjoying every second.

"See you tomorrow, dummy."

George patted him on the cheek with his right boot, grabbed the other pair of boots and walked out. Ben was left thirsty and wanting more.

The next afternoon, Ben left the shower and saw another message from George.

"Wife's out. Come. Now."

Ben dressed up and quickly got in the car. His heart was beating extremely hard as he drove to George's house. He was beginning to enjoy that dirty, secret excitement. The day was very hot and he felt a little breathless.

When he knocked on the door, he heard George's masculine shout come from the living room.

"Come in!"

George was sitting in the couch, with a beer can on his hand, as he watched a sports channel on the flat screen. He was wearing his work clothes again - gray cargo pants and a sweaty shirt on top of a wife beater. His old boots were dirty with dry mud and dust. The room was filled with the distinct smell of his sweat and his meaty stompers.

"Get me another beer before you start licking," said George casually, snapping his fingers toward the kitchen.

Ben quickly grabbed a beer can from the fridge and brought it to George as his friend stared at the flat screen.

"Ready to clean the dirt off my fucking soles, bitch boy?" George laughed with a raspy voice.

"Yes, sir, right away, sir," replied Ben, as he dropped to his knees.

George rested his legs on the coffee table and Ben started kissing and licking his soles without ceremony. The smell was much stronger from up-close. Earthy and cheesy, a mixture of dirt and foot sweat. Ben's eyes watered a little.

George cracked the beer open and took a long sip, drawing his attention back to the TV.

"It's been a very hot day," the alpha commented.

"Yes, sir," said Ben, between licks.

"You can't imagine how sweaty I got, today. The boys at work were complaining a lot," George chuckled. "If only they knew there's a foot fag who loves to take big whiffs of my strong cologne..."

Ben whined and licked harder. His tongue got raw and numb pretty quickly. He lapped from the very bottom of the heel to the edge of the toe cap, over and over again, washing the grime that George had stepped on the whole day, planting a few kisses in between licks, worshiping his dirt desperately.

"Do you smell them, pussy boy? Do you notice how fucking cheesy they smell? We're gonna really test your limits today. My bare feet have been marinating in dirty sweat all day, mixing with the stink from yesterday. Let's see how much your nose and tongue love that," George chuckled, placing his hands comfortably behind his head.

His pit stains were large and he also had sweat on his chest and down his belly. His whole body was damp and emanating warm testosterone, stuck in between layers of hair on his strong body.

Ben felt a little scared and disgusted, but his heart was beating fast from the domination. The smell intensified more and more and George laughed at him and called him a loser when he gagged a little.

Ben licked and licked for twenty minutes until George was satisfied. The man would watch the TV, drink beer and call him a bitch and a pussy in between sips. The more George disrespected him, the more he licked and kissed his boots. That power exchange made them both hard, somehow.

"Let's see what you're doing," said George, inspecting his wet soles. "Ah, not bad for a foot fag. Now take my big dogs out."

Ben unlaced the boots swiftly and grabbed the right boot. When he dislodged the boot, it made a wet "plop" sound from all the sticky sweat, and George guffawed, proudly.

"Put your face right in there and sniff!" shouted George.

"Fuck, sir, it's so bad," whined Ben.

"Yeah, you foot fag loser. Get in there, and sniff my toes when the boot comes out," commanded George.

Ben obeyed and gagged several times from the strong stench. He uncovered George's long, hairy toes and took a big whiff of his fresh toe jam. George couldn't stop laughing.

Ben's right foot was glistening with sweat and foot gunk. The sock lint from yesterday was still bathing in his toe jam, and the edges of his foot had a few yellow callouses.

"Here, sniff that," ordered George, shoving his big toe in front of Ben's nose.

Ben sniffed hard and cried a little from the strong smell.

"Yeah! You fucking chump. Sniff my big toe, pussy," mocked George. "Sniff all over my foot, now! That's it, run your little nose over my soles. Sniff your meal, boy, sniff your fucking meal..."

"Thank you, sir!"

"Shut up and take the other one!"

The left foot made an even louder "plop" when the boot was removed, and this time Ben already knew what to do. He placed his nose on the sweaty sole and the cheesy toes as soon as they were revealed, inhaling that hot, rich foot jam George had been carefully cooking up for him. The smell was brutal - it intoxicated every part of his brain, and after more sniffs he began to crave it. A little part of his brain began to enjoy George's strong scent.

"You fucking foot slut, you fucking foot bitch," spat George, half disgusted and half fascinated by his friend's debasement.

Ben cried between sniffing and rubbing his nose all over George's left foot. George slapped him in the face with it. He started giving loud foot thwacks to Ben's cheeks, from left to right, using one foot and then both feet, abusing his face with gusto.

Smack, smack, smack.

"Tell me you love them. Tell me you love them while they smack you in the face!" shouted George.

"I love them, sir! I love your big feet, sir!" chanted Ben, pathetically.

George released a vulgar burp.

The room was absolutely drenched in his smells. Ben's mind was spiraling and drowning in submission.

"Now beg to lick them clean, bitch. Beg to lick my foot juice!"

"Please, sir, I beg you!"

"Beg harder!" barked George, enjoying himself, his big hairy fists closing threateningly.

"Please, please, please! Allow me the honor to lick and clean your godly, superior feet, sir!" cried Ben, in the most pathetic tone possible.

"Bahahaha!" guffawed George, his big hard bulge throbbing inside his pants. "Start cleaning, pussy."

Ben licked the right foot first, starting with the big toe, sucking on it like a cock, then lapping between the hairy toes, getting all the rich toe jam on his tongue. It was incredibly salty, with muddy undertones. He licked all the sock lint and the specks of dirt from between the toes, and continued licking to the ball of the foot, and down to the thick skin on the heel, licking and biting the callouses.

"Fuck yeah. Clean every inch," grunted George, using his strength to press his red sole right on Ben's face. "Now the other foot, fucktard."

Ben repeated the whole process on the left foot, absorbing all the toe gunk and sole juice with his saliva and savoring the intense smell of two days of extreme foot sweat. George's soles became progressively cleaner as the minutes passed.

"Loser," whispered George, starting to bash Ben's face again.

Ben kept kissing them between smacks, without a trace of dignity. He saw the big bulge throb hard between George's thick thighs.

"I know you want my cock, bitch boy," whispered George.

"It's true, sir," confessed Ben.

"Say it."

"I want your cock, sir. I want your big alpha cock," said Ben.

George arched his eyebrows, shook his head and laughed.

"Silly boy, you don't deserve it," said George.

The alpha grabbed the volume of his sweaty nut sack.

"Come here and sniff my balls," said George.

Ben crawled between his friend's thighs and placed his nose on George's balls, sniffing them passionately, like a dumb slut.

"Yeah, sniff my balls, Ben. Sniff my fucking balls. You're owned, now."

Ben's own cock was pulsing inside his pants, as he stared at George's big package.

"Thank me, Ben."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now go home and jerk off... Jerk off to our little secret."

Ben took a moment to stand up and leave. He drove for a long time, his mind floating in a haze of nothingness.