Becoming the Family Foot Slave (Fiction) *Chapter Two* My Fathers Threat Nearly three weeks passed by without another foot incident and I had almost forgotten about it even happening. I had definitely forgotten about my dad’s joke to punish me with his feet the next time I messed up, but that joke would soon come back to haunt me. Earlier in the week report cards had been sent home and I knew that I had an awful science mark, so I did what every teenager would do. I threw the report card in the garbage as soon as I got home and never brought it up. As Friday rolled around I figured that I was off the hook; my father had never mentioned anything about report cards all week and so I began to look forward to my weekend. I decided that I was going to spend my Friday night playing video games in the living room and so I headed downstairs and walked into the living room. I stopped to fumble with the light switch briefly and when the lights flicked on I realized that there was a heavy wooden chair from the study room in the middle of the living room, centred in front of the T.V. I barely had time to think of what this meant before I was tackled to the ground from behind and rolled over. On top of me was my father, Marcus. He was still in his work outfit. I struggled to get out from underneath his but I was no match. “Dad what are you doing!” I yelled but my dad ignored me, dragging me over to the wooden chair and sliding me underneath it before grabbing a roll of duct tape that I had failed to notice. I tried to slide out from under the chair but my father pushed down on one arm with his shoe covered foot and held it in place. He then taped my hand to the leg of the chair and forced my other hand towards the other leg of the chair before taping it as well. He then ripped off a large piece of tape and used it to cover my mouth before putting his feet on either side of my head and stared down at me. “Aw you look so confused down there… Let me explain. I found your report card in the trash earlier this week and saw what an awful science mark you have. And the fact that you tried to hide this from me made me much angrier than the mark alone. So I spent the night trying to figure out how to punish you for your actions, and it didn’t really hit me until I took off my shoes Monday night…” My dad spoke and began to dangle one of his shoes above my head. I stared at the shoe and watched it move around as Marcus rotated his foot and I began to notice a foul smell coming from the shoe. “When I took my shoes off I could smell my feet standing up and I remembered my little threat to make you sniff my feet again if you got into trouble. So I wore two pairs of socks above, but don’t worry about them. You’ll be sniffing my socks soon enough. For now you can enjoy what daddy’s feet smell like after a week of work. Let’s start with the shoe.” With this, my father reached down, pulled off his right shoe and held it over my nose, forcing my nose deep into the toe section of his trainer. I held my breath as long as possible, desperately trying to shake the shoe from my face, but Marcus held it firm making sure all that I would breathe was the smell of his shoe. Eventually I couldn’t hold my breath any longer and I inhaled deeply. “That’s a good boy. Smell daddy’s stinky shoe.” The odor hit me like a wall. These were the shoes he wore to work regularly and had kept the same pair of socks in them for a week straight. The smell made my eyes water and my dad began to move the shoe around my face so that I sampled all the different areas of the shoes. The toe section was definitely the worst. Five minutes of smelling his rotten shoe had gone by before my father switched shoes and placed a fresh one over my nose. This started another round of torture to my nose and I began fighting to shake my nose free but to no avail. After a few more minutes of tortured breathing I gave up and laid there sniffing Marcus’s shoe, my eyes squeezed tightly shut to try and pretend I was somewhere else. My dad began to rotate between his two shoes now so that I had a constant new odor assaulting me while I listened to his taunts. “Can you smell how hard I work? I think the toe section is the best, that’s where all the sweat gathers. Maybe daddy will tie his stinky gym shoes to your face next time. How does that sound Kevin?” I groaned in dismay at the thought and weakly shook my head to signal no, but Marcus simply pushed my nose deeper into his shoe and said “Sniff.” Eventually I felt the shoe come off of my face and it wasn’t immediately replaced by the other so I opened my eyes with hope, foolishly believing it was over. As I opened my eyes I saw my dad’s black sock covered feet descending towards my face and I began to scream into my gag and shook my head with all my might. This did nothing, however, and soon my father’s sweaty feet were covering my face. The shock caused me to inhale and I immediately regretted this as my nose filled with the scent of his week old socks. I had smelled his feet before after a hot day at work but these were 20 times worse. His feet reeked. I continued screaming into the gag due to the smell and my father simply laughed at me and began to move his feet around my face. “Oh this feels so nice on my sweaty feet. From now on when I come home you can rub them for me and when you’re done I’ll just wipe all of my sweat off onto your face.” My father said as he continued to laugh. He then curled his toes over top of my nose and ordered me to take deep breaths. I looked up at him with tears in my eyes and begged him to let me go but then got angry. “Kevin, if you don’t start taking some nice, big sniffs of my raunchy toes, I’m going to go upstairs and find those gym socks I told you about and you can find out how nice they smell. 1… 2… 3… Fine have it your way.” My dad quickly got up and raced upstairs while I lay there shaking my head. He quickly returned with a pair of black and obviously dirty workout socks. I could see from a distance that they were crusty at the toe ends from dried up sweat. My dad took his place in his chair and bent over, forcing the toe ends over my nose. These gym socks were absolutely awful. They smelled worse than his other socked feet and he had only worn them to the gym for a few days, with his work sock underneath! At this point I began to lightly cry, partly out of embarrassment from the whole ordeal but mainly from the pure torture of his workout socks. I would have gladly sniffed Dans socks every day for the rest of my life if it meant that I would be free from these socks. My father soon noticed my tears and began laughing as he wiped the sweaty socks all over my face and my nose, ensuring I sniffed every part of the sock. “Awh are they really that stinky? I think you’re right, they do need to be cleaned…” my father said as his voice trailed off in thought. “That gives me an idea” he said as he ripped the tape off of my mouth. “Open”. I opened my mouth to ask what he was doing but my father expected this and quickly rammed his workout socks into my mouth and replaced the tape. My mouth was immediately on fire with the bitter taste of his foot sweat and I desperately tried to move my tongue away from the socks, but they quickly unfolded inside my mouth and soon anywhere that my tongue moved was against his socks. “Ah, much better.” Marcus said before placing his feet back onto my face. “Now deep sniffs, or else.” He said as he brought his toes back over my nose. I was now defeated by him and with tears in my eyes I took a long sniff of his toes and began to cough and moan into his gym socks. “That’s a good boy” he said and spread his toes wide in front of my nose. “Get your nose right in between my toes, that’s where they really stink”. I dutifully sniffed wherever my father told me to, wanting the torture to end as soon as possible. He soon made a comment about his feet being sore and decided to use my nose as a foot massager, rubbing his feet all over it in different patterns. The taste of his socks was still filling my mouth and he seemed to catch onto this as he looked down on me. “You know, if I were you I would start sucking those socks clean. If they’re still dirty when they come out, I have a couple more pairs upstairs that need to be washed…” he taunted as he slowly dragged his foot from heel to toe down my nose. I was not sure if he was being serious or not but I didn’t want to take the chance as I began to slowly suck the sweat out of them. I had been smelling his feet for over an hour now and thought that it would soon be over when a familiar voice rang out from the living room doorway. “What’s going on here?” To be continued...
Posted on: Fri, 24 Jan 2014 10:57:04 +0000
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