After a mediocre captured, we arrive with a good one ! very proud of this chapter.
___
Every day, like clockwork, I'd watch him roll . Yaki, the skater boy with that carefree smile and those beaten-up sneakers. I could almost smell with my imagination his sweaty feet from here. I'd imagine how delicious his feet must be after a long day at the skate park, the scent of his socks, the taste of his skin. I'd been watching him for months, my obsession growing with each passing day.
One scorching afternoon, as I was lost in my usual fantasies, he surprised me. He stopped at my doorstep, his breath ragged, forehead glistening with sweat. "Hey, could I bother you for a glass of water?" he panted, wiping his brow. I could barely contain my excitement. This was my chance.
I invited him in, my heart pounding in my chest. As he gulped down the water, I could feel my powers surging. I'd been preparing for this moment, honing my dark arts. I whispered an incantation under my breath, and as he finished his drink, I could see his eyes glaze over. He was mine now.
I led him to my secret room, his movements jerky and puppet-like under my control. The spell was working perfectly but i need to act quickly before im out of energy. I could feel my cock throbbing with anticipation as I began to bind his wrists, his ankles, his entire body mine to control. I was finally going to have those sweaty feet all to myself.
With no much ropes on hand, I improvised. I grabbed the extra-strong packing tape, sticking his wrists firm against the wall of my room. Yaki, still entranced, could only watch as I began to bind his feet to his own skateboard. His mind, still stuck in his hetero norms, had no clue what I was about to do to him.
There was something almost artistic about how he looked, bound to his own board. The very thing that gave him freedom was now his shackle. I took a moment to admire my work, the way his ankles were secured to the deck, his feet helplessly fastened. It was a beautiful paradox.
I leaned in, slowly untying his laces, his dirty, worn-out sneakers finally revealing their treasure. As I pulled them off, a wave of his scent hit me. It was strong, a pungent mix of sweat and warm shoes, like the locker room after a intense game. But it wasn't repulsive; it was alluring. I could almost taste his youth, his masculinity, his raw energy. His feet, now only covered in his dirty white socks, were finally at my mercy.
I pressed my nose against his socks, inhaling deeply. The smell was overwhelming, just like I'd imagined. The stench of his sweat-soaked feet filled my lungs, a heady mix of his testosterone and the grime of the skate park. I could see the dirt toes marked from hours on the board, embedded into the softening white fabric of his skater socks. It was the scent of his strength, his adrenaline. I rubbed a thumb over his sole, watching as the filthy cotton stretched over his skin. He was finally mine.
In the blink of an eye, Yaki's world shifted. He was now bound, hogtied with his skateboard secured under his stomach, the ropes crisscrossing his body and the wheels of his board digging into the ground, keeping him firmly in place. His chest was bare, and a bone-shaped gag was stuffed into his mouth, drool leaking out the sides like an idiot. His mind, still foggy from the spell, couldn't grasp why there was a guy sniffing his feet, that part of him he never paid much attention to, the part some people found repulsive.
His consciousness began to resurface, the haze of the spell slowly lifting. He could feel a nose trailing along his sole, inhaling deeply, and then, suddenly, a warm, wet tongue joining in. It licked and tasted every inch of his foot, from his heel to the tip of his toes. It was weird, bordering on dangerous, but Yaki couldn't help but feel a flicker of pleasure. The soft, wet tongue exploring his bare, salty skater feet was stirring something within him. His feet he considered so nasty and careless were being worshiped like a godsend by this strange man.
As he blinked again, he found himself bound once more, the skateboard now secured to his back, ropes wrapping around his wrists, shoulders, torso, and feet. His abdomen was left completely exposed, vulnerable. The mental fog had lifted slightly, and he could see the man inches away from his pants, slowly unzipping them. It felt like a lucid dream, a strange, wet, vivid dream.
Even though Yaki wasn't gay, the idea of being desired so intensely that he was tied up like a trophy, made him feel strangely beautiful and delicious. His cock began to stir as he thought, "This man would do anything to lick my dick. I must be so handsome in his eyes for him to be willing to do this for me." The warm tongue began to tease his tip, lapping at his glans. After a few minutes of this game, it dawned on Yaki that a mouth is a mouth, and when someone devours your cock with such passion, your cock will respond, eager to be loved and worshipped.
"Never leave me, always be mine." Those words echoed like a mantra in Yaki's head. Now, bound to the chair with his legs elevated, he watched as the man stroked him, all while sucking on his toes. Yaki no longer felt the urge to escape. Instead, an unfamiliar sense of belonging washed over him. He no longer yearned for freedom; he'd found happiness in being someone's sexual plaything.
The manual and oral stimulation on his cock grew faster, more intense. He was spiraling towards the most explosive orgasm of his life. His body convulsed as he erupted, shooting 8 streams of hot cum, ready to be consumed. He ended up shivering, longing for a nap to recharge for more fun later. He was no longer the free skater he once was; he was a captured hetero, content in the knowledge that his new owner would suck his feet and his cock with such passion until he tired of him. A mix of satisfaction and a strange sense of peace filled him as he accepted his new reality.
___
Next day :
Yaki's eyes fluttered open, finding himself in a dingy, dimly-lit cell, bound by ropes and chains, his skateboard ironically positioned and secured, a constant reminder of his former life. He was naked, except for his skater hat, a faint memory of who he used to be. Flashes of guilt flickered across his mind as he recalled the pleasure he'd experienced from receiving oral sex from a man. His skateboard, once a symbol of freedom, now stood still, a constant reminder of his captivity.
He was trapped, completely at the mercy of the gay man, like a fly caught in a spider's web, waiting to be devoured. The man descended, his eyes fixed on Yaki's feet, as if savoring the rare opportunity to lick a skater's feet in their natural state, on a skateboard. Yaki was completely bound and preserved, a human trophy, a captive skater boy, forever trapped in this dark, twisted world.
A bell chimes, and suddenly, Yaki finds himself in a new position, his feet hoisted towards the ceiling, chained to his skateboard as if frozen mid-air during a trick. He realized the bell was a tool, used to keep him docile, moving him from place to place, each time remembering more of his past. He was a skater, a criminal, robbing stores with his friends after a day at the park. He wondered if this was karma, or if he was already in hell. He remembered that fateful day, approaching the strange man's house with ill intentions with intentions to rob him beat him up, but everything went blurry, and now he was here, at the mercy of a gay man obsessed with his feet and his cock.
But now, there was something new. A territory unexplored for Yaki, an area he, like many straight, tough guys, had ignored. But it was an area filled with nerve endings, begging to be explored. He felt a mischievous tongue circling his hole, prodding, entering him, while his rock-hard cock was being stroked. Confusion washed over him, but for a few seconds, even as his masculinity was being defiled, his mind soared to the heavens. The dual sensations, the humiliation, the raw pleasure, all mixed together, sending him spiraling into a whirlwind of emotion and sensation.
"I feel like my head is stuck in some medieval device, my wrists bound, and my ass exposed." The words echoed in Yaki's mind as he took in his new reality. A camera stared him in the face, recording every twitch, every expression. It dawned on him; he was the main attraction in a live show titled "Straight Skater's First Rimming." He was the center of a perverse spectacle, his most intimate moments broadcasted for the world to see.
He could feel that tongue again, circling his hole, prodding, exploring. His primal instincts, combined with the gag ball, reduced him to a drooling mess, like a dog in heat. He never thought a rim job could feel so fucking hot. His cock throbbed, his body betraying him as it reveled in the sensation. The humiliation, the pleasure of being degraded like that, the sheer filth of it all, had his mind spinning, his body aching for more. In this twisted reality, he found a perverse sense of liberation.
" Fuck, this tongue lashing feels so damn good, with my ass totally elevated and exposed like this, I feel like a fucking piece of meat, but I don't care, it's like a exotic kind of massage, now I understand why gay guys love it so much, it's so fucking hot, and I can't get out of these chains, I can't do anything but enjoy it".
"I'm being milked," Yaki panted, his body trembling with overwhelming sensation. He lay on his stomach, his cock hanging into emptiness, a willing vessel for the relentless pleasure. A hungry mouth enveloped him, sucking, licking, devouring. Then, a hand joined in, stroking, squeezing, twisting, while the mouth continued its ravenous feast. The dual stimulation was too much, pushing him to the brink of madness.
His body tensed, his balls tightened, and with a guttural roar, he erupted. Cum shot out of him like a fucking geyser, painting the room, coating his captor. It was his second explosive orgasm, even more intense than the first. He couldn't believe it. He looked for something, anything, to justify this, to explain it away, but there was nothing left. Just him, his pleasure, and the cold
