Sometimes i wonder about the strange twists of fate which by a series of seemingly small decisions end up changing you life completely. My story begins in a small midwestern university.
For several years, i taught a freshman English literature and composition course at the university. I got all sorts or brownie points with the central administration of the university for doing this class because department heads rarely teach freshman courses. However my motives were totally selfish. By careful use of class time, and building up a reputation for helpfulness i usually had a rather significant number of the freshmen members of the football team in my class. I was considered a hard professor, but i gave students in this class a lot of personal time..and i made very sure that the football players were not given a lot more than any of the other students in the class. Since academic writing was my professional speciality, my students had a good reputation in other departments and colleges of the university, and so i am not ashamed to say this section was popular. However my reward came in being able to have those guys come by the office for personal help. In class i would note those muscles, and those great asses, and when i could get away with it those well stuffed crouches also. Most of the time, especially with linemen, when they came to the office they were really nervous, and you could smell their sweat as they fearfully came to work on one of their least developed skills. I was very, very careful to never do anything with this group besides just observe, and have the enjoyment of those sneak peaks, and occasionally be invited to come by a practice by the coaching staff. On a couple of occasions, i was even invited to come by the locker room after a game, and i really had to watch myself in that area.
I could not get over how calm the players were moving naked around the locker room with all those people there. I several times tried to imagine myself having the assurance, and i guess just familiarity with the scene to just accept that others would pay no attention. Well i did pay attention. I noticed everything i could. i kept track of how the players came into to room, and how absolutely unbelievable they looked in their football equipment. Their hip pads made their asses look like bulls, and those tight pants over their jocks...each being provided with an extra bulge by the protective cup... made them a joy to watch as they came running in after a victory, or silently trudging in after a defeat. And of course they were not only great to see, but all that young athletic sweat which just poured off of them as they walked by. After several times, i even managed to get into the jock syndrome of butt patting as they would come in after a victory. God it was great. Saying all those clever professor type of jokes which were a characteristic of my teaching style, and all the time drinking the sights and smells of the room. I would then hang around and watch the team get out of the layers of clothes which seem to envelop a football player. I would almost cream my pants each time as i would try to perhaps engage in some casual conversation with a player as i watched him peel down. For some losing all those pads did make the player a little less spectacular, but others were great even without those "falsies." When the guy would get down to the jock, and would pull that off, and out would explode the _c_o_c_k_, i really had to concentrate to keep from staring. I noticed that almost every time, the player would them reach down and message and move his _c_o_c_k_ and balls around before getting a towel and moving toward the showers. When i would get back home after one of these experienced i could drain myself several times just imagining helping those jocks off those young hard sweaty bodies. I sure could have removed the jocks with a lot more style than they used. I would have been happy to have used my mouth to accomplish the task. How i would have been happy to have helped those balls get messaged with my tongue and mouth after they were allowed to escape from the bondage of the jock. And of course, i would have been happy to have helped that _c_o_c_k_ to be relieved of any sweat, and then to have brought it to attention, and helped it get its exercise for the day also.
However all these were wet dreams and fantasies for several years. No one ever thought i was unusual in all those years because i really did carefully plan my one or two times a season, and concentrate on taking in as much as possible in those times, and then just bringing those memories home for repeat performances, and added fantasy embellishments. Then one year this pleasant routine had a variation which would set in motion an amazing string of events which bring me to here and now.
The university had established a satellite program in Saudi Arabia. One result of that campus was a football player from Saudi Arabia named Abdul Achmand. I had him in my class, and since he needed some extra help with academic English he came to the office a few more times than usual. He was over six feet tall, and very powerfully built. When he would sit on the chair next to my desk he would sit with his legs wide apart, and i could see that huge bulge in his crouch. In spite of myself i must have looked a bit too long at that mountain showing under his sweat pants because much to my surprise and without missing a sentence or thought about the essay we were discussing he nonchalantly moved one of those massive paws of hands of his down and sort of rearranged to mountain a bit, and in the process cause my own _c_o_c_k_ to stir. It was strange, and i could not decide if he were doing the rubbing unconsciously or not. The next time he came to the office I noticed that he was wearing some sort of very noticeable harness on his _c_o_c_k_, and the outlines of leather bands clearly showed up on the tight white practice pants he was wearing. He lamely said that he had had to rush right over from practice. I knew better. He just wanted to show off. In spite of my fears at revealing any more clearly my interest in his power tool, i just could not ignore it. However he made no more overt moves, and i was terrified as well as fascinated, and did nothing but spend some serious pub pounding as i thought of that monster _c_o_c_k_.
Finally my invitation to a game to sit on the bench, go to the locker room, and play a member of the team came. I couldn't wait. I got there early to see Abdul get into his gear. When i saw him in his full power, i almost drooled right there and then. His over six feet frame was covered with a beautiful brownish skin, and unusual for Arabs, he had a lot of chest hair. But his _c_o_c_k_ and balls. There truly were things to admire. His _c_o_c_k_ was easily twice mine in almost any measurement you could think of, and I watched as carefully as possible as he tried to stuff that massive mountain into his jock. Once again, i think he know i was watching him carefully because when he left to go on the field, he reached over seemingly to pat my ass, as other team members did to one another before a game, but he was distracted as he reached out, and mistakenly gave my crouch a bit of a pat instead. When he realized he had come into contact with me, his hand seemed to fly away. After the game, as i was talking to a couple of other players, and slowly moving around so i could see him behind one of the two players with whom i was conversing, he motioned for me to come over. When i got beside me he sort of whispered.
"Do you want to come to the team's freshman initiation Saturday night?"
"What's that?" I replied "I've never heard of any freshman team initiation."
"You wouldn't" Abdul said. "However if you would like to attend as a sort of special team member i think i could arrange it."
"You guys behave yourselves, don't you? "I said, hoping they didn't.
"Well, I don't think I could guarantee that, and you'd have to agree to not say anything to anyone else." Abdul said.
Trying to appear calm I said that the experience might be interesting, but was there any way to not let my students know I would be participating. I should have been suspicious when Abdul said that i would not have to worry. All the way home over and over again. i thought ...this Saturday was going to be my luck day. I was going to engage in some sort of initiation with a bunch of very well endowed, muscular young men, and knowing the perverse minds of football players, there must be some really unusual initiation activities.
Saturday came, and as Abdul had arranged, i was to be picked up near the locker room by the football stadium. i wore the jock, jeans, and "T" shirt as Abdul had instructed me to wear. Once in the car we began a trip outside the town. After we had gone some distance, and turned on a fairly deserted road, Abdul suddenly stopped the car and said i would now have to undergo my final preparations for the initiation.
First he had me get into the back seat, and a football helmet was snapped into place. However this helmet had a covering attached to the inner lining which covered my face, and once the chin guard and face guard were snapped into place, the thick material effectively cut my vision to vague outlines in bright light, and nothing in the darkness of that lonely road and back seat of the car. Finally Abdul ordered me to put my hands behind my back, and instantly as i did so, his huge hands clamped over mine, and i heard, and felt simultaneously handcuffs being roughly snapped around my wrists. I started to protest, and was rewarded with a hard smack on the ass. Abdul said, "Initiates speak only if spoken to. Since that was your first offense, I'll ignore it, but I will give you demerits which you will have to 'work' off if you speak again." I was thinking to myself that I hadn't had my ass smacked as hard as that since my Father had really given it to me years ago. My next surprise came almost immediately as shoes were removed and my blue jeans were unfastened, and pulled off=2E My years of being in charge immediately got me into trouble as i immediately began to say that being bareassed was not part of what i had agreed to when i felt another swat across my ass, and this time there was no protective layer of cloth to offer any protection. It sounded like a rifle shot, and it burned like an iron, and the force just plain hurt. Abdul calmly said "Four demerits, which, I assure you, I will enjoy your working out as much as you will hate it." With my ass feeling like his hand print would be there for a month, and the idea of working out demerits not too appealing to me, i decided that i would kept my mouth shut, and actually as soon as i started to think about being there in the floor of the back seat, bareass and cuffed, my _c_o_c_k_ responded. Abdul noted the reaction, and said "Your little pea shooter confirms what i have been sure of without proof for some time. You know that your proper place is bound, disciplined, and being used."
I was then ordered to raise my ass up, and Abdul said that he had prepared a little extra for me since he had been so sure that i would react as i had just done. He said that one way that was used to make sure horses remembered who was in control, and to focus on keeping their tails up, was to have some Vaseline mixed with ginger put up their ass holes. Abdul said that he had some of this for me. I remembered to keep quiet this time as the substance was liberally rubbed around the opening, and then up the _s_h_i_t_ shut itself. Abdul was right, my heightened metabolism from this exciting experience helped the ginger to assert itself almost immediately, and I wanted to squirm . Once again i heard Abdul smoothing voice saying that the ginger would give me something to enjoy on the remainder of the trip, and he shut me in as he returned to drive.
After some time, the car stopped, and Abdul order me out. Once out i stood having no idea where to move, although i could hear noises some distance to my left. All of a sudden some sort of a stick was jammed up my ass, and i immediately felt more of the Vaseline and ginger mixture, and as the stick jammed into me Abdul told me to just go where the stick pushed. That stick was moving into my previously virgin asshole, and i lost no time in trying to move as it directed. After some detours for Abdul's enjoyment of my efforts to move to keep the pole from coming up and out of my mouth...well that's how it felt to me at the time... we came to a door, and when it opened i was on the floor of a barn, and the lights were bright enough so i could see some shapes around me. Abdul said in a very loud voice..special team member 69 brought in for initiation. Guided further across the floor my bare feet stepping into some smooth soft substance - just like stepping into a pile of mashed potatoes. From the immediate ammonia fumes which assailed my nostrils immediately, i know that i had just been guided to walk on some good old country natural fertilizer.
A voice i recognized but could not identify said, "Well, we certainly can't let this dumb freshman jock make a mess of our initiation area. I think it needs to clean itself up." i heard general agreement, and all of a sudden i felt myself being pushed down into a kneeling position, with my weight on my knees, and my feet behind. i was instructed to rub the _s_h_i_t_ off my feet. With my handcuffed hands i was able to just reach down to my feet, and started rubbing the _s_h_i_t_ off my feet, but it was now on my hands. i didn't know what to do, and i felt sweat begin to come out of me, because i could sense that i was in a situation in which i would be expected to do something to dispose of that _s_h_i_t_, and i really didn't have a clue as to how to do so. Clearly my discomfort was being enjoyed as i was beginning to be taunted. "Get that _s_h_i_t_ out, you stupid freshman asshole!" i decided there was one place i could deposit the _s_h_i_t_ off my foot, and that was in the my own _s_h_i_t_ shut. So i leaned back and scraped some _s_h_i_t_ off my foot, and then leaned forward and jammed the _s_h_i_t_ up my asshole. I worked as quickly as possible, and in the end got most of it stuffed safely away. My foot was then allowed to be rubbed totally clean with my own hands, and then i was taken over to a separate area and my handcuffs were attached to a chain running along the wall. I could hear, and feel the heat and movement of others around me, and see their outlines.
I didn't have long to wait for the next event on the evening's agenda. Another voice, this time totally unfamiliar said that since competition was the essential part of football. or any athletics, that the first part was a competition on _c_o_c_k_ size. Each initiate on the line was given three minutes to get his _c_o_c_k_ as large as possible. The contest was to be judged on appearance, style of presentation, as well as size. It must have been quite a sight as every initiate, each handcuffed behind the back, and chained to the wall tried to move around to get their _c_o_c_k_s into the salute position. I tried moving my hips back and forth to slap the little thing into action, but fear and the lack of manual help doomed me, and when the judge came by, my _c_o_c_k_ was denounced as putrid. It may seem strange but that remark really irritated me, and the competitive spirit really began to motivate me for future tests. However, soon all of us who were the losers were removed from the wall chain, and moved to the center of the room.
"Do you know what people say about loosers?" a voice boomed. Answering his own question the voice continued. "They say they were beaten!"
In knew what was going to follow, and sure enough, the voice continued, "assume the position loosers." I knew enough to bend over and grab my ankles, but in a moment someone came from behind me and forced my legs further apart, and i immediately felt my asshole being more opened up to the air. The losers were told that the winners from our group would be given first swats, and then any other active would have the opportunity. We were instructed that if we wanted no further penalty we should not yell out, cry, or any other reaction to the strokes, because "Football players have to learn to ignore pain." They added that even a more severe penalty would come to the initiate who would fall over from one of the blows, because that would mean that the person really didn't have the physical skills such as balance and power to be a member of the team. To help make sure none of us would cheat by moving our hands from our ankles to preserve balance, they then did two things to each of us. First they taped our wrists to our ankles with athletic tape, and then they lodged some sort of board between the ankles so we could not sneak them any closer to increase our balance. Then it began.
I was several down the line because I could hear the crack from the first stroke. I don't think I will ever forget that sharp staccato report of the flat side of the paddle against the tight skin of the ass of the first looser-victim. I don't think that shooting a gun off behind we would have sounded louder, or immediately caused me so sweat faster. It was clear that those blows were meant to test both the ability to endure pain, and balance, because that loud of a noise did not come from anything less than a full home run swing.
As the sounds of punishment came closer and closer, i mentally told myself that even though i was in a helmet, and no one was supposed to know i was an old professor and not some young stud, that they probably did know, and would let the paddle wielder know to be a little more considerate. Finally the looser next to me got his, and I heard his muffled gasp as the blow hit. Then i could feel people move behind me. I heard some whispered conversation, and my hopes really soared. Yes! They were letting the hitter know to be more gentle. Then I heard a voice. IT is amazing how that helmet changed to voice quality..not to mention my fear and, though I might not want to admit it, excitement, and so although I did again know that I had heard that voice before, I could not identify it specifically. What I hear really caused me to break into a cold sweat.
"Well, prof, your hitter was informed who you were, and wants me to let you know that he has something extra special for you for the hours of torment you have put him through, and all those little sarcastic remarks you made about the papers he spent hours writing. So we have told him about a little extra game, and he wants to play it with you. We are going to put a rubber ball right at your little asshole, and your hitter will get a bonus if he can hit that ball all the way home into your asshole."
I made a little futile struggle, which just produced snickering be the group i could feel behind me, and then i felt the ball being stuck between my ass cheeks right in line with my asshole, and all of that awaiting the blow. Then came the words of encouragement to the hitter. "Hit a home run. Put it out of the park. Put that ball out of sight" Not comments i wanted to hear. Then it came. It was worse than any pain I had ever before experienced in my life. My entire ass was aflame. Every nerve ending registered a shrieking protest, and involuntarily let out a yell of pain, and at the same moment felt my balance giving away. I fell amidst the cheering of the hitter and the rest of the active team members. He had hit enough of a home run that the ball was indeed somewhat lodged inside my asshole. I tried to move my feet to keep from the fall, but the board prevented a rapid enough movement, and i fell to the floor with a crash. The helmet did protect me, and my ass hurt enough that i felt almost nothing from the fall. AS hands moved me upright again, i was told i had two major penalties to pay - one for the fall and another for the yell. The group moved on but as the group moved several hands moved over my ass admiring the color, and the warmth, and poking the ball into the hole a bit further. In all this i could feel my _c_o_c_k_ reacting in a way i would never have permitted if i could have...it jumped up at attention and interest. A couple of voices noted this interest, and said they might really have to think of a punishment since it was clear i had enjoyed the swats too much. How is it possible to both dread something as much as i dreaded what had happened, and what might come, and at the same time be so excited, and even anticipating the events. I still wonder at this, but have at this time just come to appreciate the mind that allows me to enjoy my degradation and pain.
The punishment began. I was taken to a center part of the barn, and there the helmet was removed so that everyone now knew who it was, even if they had not known before. "For falling over you will need a lower center of gravity," one of the team members said, "This little device might help." With those words he attached a sort of leather ring which snapped around the top of my scrotum, but with little chains going down to just under my balls. To those chains the active team member attached a small bag into which he dropped several small weights. I winced every time he added one, but managed to keep from crying out. He was right that added weight hanging between my legs was doing something to my center of gravity, and my attention. "Now, for the disgrace of yelling," the active said. In a lower voice which only i could hear he said, "Brace yourself. This will really hurt, but don't yell, or you'll face even worse." Then out loud he said. "Look at these two little gems." They looked like two clips like used to be used to attach antenna wires to the back of tv sets. I suddenly feared i knew where these little clips were going, and as the active grabbed my left nipple and started messaging it and squeezing it, i knew my fear was correct. In a loud voice the active was telling me what a miserable piece of _s_h_i_t_ i was for not being able to meet the standards of the football team in accepting pain, and then again in a very low voice he said, "It's going on. Do whatever you can to keep from yelling. I'm going to snap it on because that will be one sharp pain rather than tease you with them and draw out the agony." I guess his idea was rather like jumping onto the cold ocean. The only way to do it was to just jump in all at once and shock the body so that it all over in an instant.
I did what i could, but i certainly was not prepared for the unbelievable pain which went through every part of my brain when that clip snapped on, and those little teeth bit into the tender tit. That was followed almost immediately by the other side. By some miracle i did keep from screaming, and i really will never know how. The weight on my balls was now a minor distraction. Then another assault hit my sensory nerves. A chain was attached between the ends of those two cruel clamps, and another little bag was attached onto that chain. It was on a ring and so it could move from side to side, and really gyrate between those two clamps.
I noticed that five other received similar treatment as i was given. All five had the helmets removed, and three were given the weights on their balls, and the other two joined me with the tit clamps as well. Now all initiates were told that it was time to do the conditioning drills. I had watched these, and didn't think i would like to do them in the best of times, and certainly not now. However, i was not given any choice.
All the helmeted initiates went through the drills - jumping through a tire maze, jumping up and swinging on a ladder over a pile of some animal's _s_h_i_t_, then doing five push ups, and finally doing fifteen jumping jacks. When all of these jocks had completed the course, their average time was announced, and those six of us were told that we also had to complete the course in this amount of time, or that we would receive a stroke of the paddle for each second we went over. I watched three precede me. I saw their weights hop around, and i heard them moan as those weights hopped up and than crashed down on their ball sacks. They looked like a person who just got a good fist in the gut. Then i was taken to the starting position and told to get ready, get set, and to begin.
Every step was a new sensation of pain. The pain the weights on the balls was just like i imagined. My gut throbbed, but the varieties of position and pulls the tit clips made on my tits almost caused me to pass out. A couple of times as i was trying to remember how to hold on to the bars and swing across the _s_h_i_t_ pile, i really felt my wrists go weak as the weights did big pendulums on the balls as the weight alternately smashed into my chest or tried to pull my tits off my body. Through some miracle I did make it through the course, and i awaited the time. They had to have been extra kind because they announced i was only 10 seconds over. The four of us who were over were than taken to some saw horse strapped down over them, with the ankles tied to two of the legs, chest strapped over the long beam, and wrists attached to the other two legs. Whoever administer the ten strokes really planned home runs with that swing. I couldn't fall, and i was fortunately so numb that i did not yell.
When that ordeal was over, all the others who had passed were given jocks to put on, and they joined those other active team members. It was announced that three of us had not measured up, and so would not be team members but team slaves. It would be our job to provide service to the actives.
While the actives drank, and grabbed each other asses, and generally seemed to be having a great time, we were told that we would compete in a couple of games, and the winner of the games would be granted freedom from slavery, although not allowed to be an active team member. The first game announced was the Minnesota Switch. We were formed in a circle and instructed to put one hand finger in our mouth and the other up the asshole of the one in front. We then marched around singing songs about what faeries we were. The at the command of switch, we were to switch fingers, Then at the command of double switch we not only switched fingers but reversed the direction of the circle, and so you could then goose the guy who had been giving you the finger _f_u_c_k_. We were told that the depth and the amount of sucking we gave the fingers would be the areas judged for places. I came in fifth place. The second game was bombardier. We were put into pairs and one was the bombardier, and the other the plane. A golf ball was put up "plane's" ass, --it was called loading the bombs--- and then blindfolded the plane was guided over the target which was a coke bottle. The object was to place the bomb and the top of the coke bottle. Each bombardier was given three attempts. A miss, meant that the bombardier picked up the "bomb" in his mouth, and reinserted it in the plane. I was the plane first, and so when it was my turn to load that golf ball bomb up the ass of my plane, it was brown; it smelled, and it had that musky odor. Never-the-less i did my best. Our group came in sixth. I was to be a slave to the football team.
After a couple of weeks following the initiation, i came more and more to realize that the situation was intolerable. In class the members of the football team would openly ignore questions, and did not do assignments, but would come by the office, and worse yet call me at home and demand that i not only still pass them, but occasionally come to specified locations to be exhibited performing my required slave duties of crawling around naked, and barking like a dog, and of course receiving several good strokes across my hardening ass. At about this time Abdul came by one evening and proposed a solution. He suggested that I apply to teach in Saudi Arabia, and thus wait out the current group of athletes, and perhaps i could return in four years and the whole thing would be forgotten, or if not i would have time to find some other school at which to teach. It seemed like a great idea to me. Of course, i had fallen into Abdul's plan all along, and soon i would find out that i was doing the trite old trip of from frying pan into the fire.
I made application, and was of course accepted. There are some good aspects of seniority. Abdul offered to save me money in plane fare by flying me over in one of the jets which belonged to a friend of his. I packed, said good-by's and off i went. I went to get freedom from slavery, but i found complete slavery instead.
On the plane, i was offered some tea, since alcohol was forbidden. I know that this whole idea seems too prosaic, but of course the tea was drugged, and the well worn path in stories was a very grim reality to me when i awakened totally nude. Even the hair i once had in some abundance from my neck down was gone. I had a steel collar around my neck; my hands were cuffed behind by back, and my ankles were cuffed together in a device that was also steel, and was two cuffs welded together. I was not going to walk anywhere with that device on my ankles. Actually i could not even stand. As i cleared away drugged somnambulism, i was going to cry out or complain, but looked around enough to realize that there was not use in wasting the breath. I was in a baggage cabin, but one which had spaces for several slaves to be attached to the wall like the collar i wore was attached, along with the ankle cuffs being attached to the floor. I was in the company of two others. One was a black who must have been either a varsity wrestler or football lineman. In any other situation i would have drooled over than chance to be as close to this stud as i was, and to look over his absolutely awe inspiring _c_o_c_k_. Just lying there limp over his upper leg, it was bigger than mine when it was at full erection. I looked at the other slave and found a very young boy who really looked terrified. From his looks i guessed he couldn't be over 10 to 12. He wore a type of harness over his head which kept a bit in his mouth and so all the sounds he could make was a few whimperings. Young boys didn't interest me, but i did remember reading in a book on the modern day slave trade that a comment was made that Arab men really like boymeat. A phrase popped into my head from that book. that to Arabs men you had a woman for pleasure, but a boy for ecstasy. I went back to trying to decide how much trouble i get myself into if i tried talking to the black stud, when the door opened and a huge Arab who had bowed when i had entered the plane with Abdul no longer bowed to with, but did bow down, and detached my collar from the wall, and my ankles from the floor. "I will carry you, infidel _s_h_i_t_, to the door of your master;s cabin. From there to the feet of your owner and master will be your job." With that statement I was yanked up, thrown over his shoulder and carried to the open doorway of the cabin where i had earlier ensconce myself in imagined luxury and superiority. Abdul looked at me, and said "Come here puppy. You have five minutes. You do not even want to think what will happen to you if you do not achieve this goal." I believed him, and with a modified swimming thrust with my bound feet, and some side-to-side movement of my shoulders, i managed to cover the thankfully not too great distance in the allotted time. Literally at his feet, I stopped.
Abdul said, "Even though you are older than most slaves, you do have that advanced degree, and i think some will remember their American college professors, and will enjoy having you as a means to punish those people for their lack of respect, and sometimes superciliousness. Besides I will personally supervise your physical training, and soon you will look much more presentable for sale. Also, professor, you showed me almost immediately that you really ARE a slave deep down in your body you have always known that. I say it in you immediately, and planned for your capture so that you could fulfill your destiny, and of course i could make a reasonable profit. You will write several letters which I will mail at appropriate times, and soon your university will be informed that you became ill on the flight over. Then they will find you have gone with me into the desert, and finally they will receive your letter of resignation because you have decided to remain in Saudi Arabia because here you had found your true self. Finally my little professor, I will have to tell you that you were an easy capture, and that I did enjoy arranging for the football team to make a trial run for me. Many of the trials you experienced there were my ideas specifically to see if you would react to slave duties as I had expected. You passed with a lovely red ass, and a little pole at full attention. Now you will begin learning. Until I tell you to stop, I wish you to worship my feet. You should lick them. caress them, and otherwise make me believe that being at my feet is the most important privilege you have every had. IF you do well, i will have you taken back to the slave pen, but have you put next to the black and you will be allowed to talk, and perhaps even to wiggle around and let you bodies touch. If you fail, you will first feel my punishment whip, and then be placed far away from the black, and have you head put into a harness as i have done to that little run away who happened into my hospitality a little time ago."
Needless to say, i tried my best. I licked each toe. I then sucked on each toe, and worked on the bottom of his foot, and as i slurped away, and occasionally rubbed my face against his foot as a gentle message, i could feel my inner being satisfied. Abdul was right. i was a slave.