CHAPTER 193 - PASSED AROUND
Wednesday, May 20 (8:25 PM)
With Master Shawn in the process of ordering the pizzas, Josh was apparently very pleased to take on the mantle of being my leash-holder.
But as I quickly came to learn, he was much more heavy-handed and sadistic than Shawn was in his treatment of me.
Instead of sitting there and passively allowing me to get on with my work like Shawn had, the blond jock was constantly pressing my face into his sneakers and slapping my arms and feet with the end of the improvised leash-rope.
The poor treatment he gave me was all in good fun though.
And much like the rather intensive breathplay he'd imposed upon me earlier, he seemed intent on testing my limits and seeing how far he could go. If I had to guess, I'd say he was either hyper-dominant, or simply ecstatic at finally having control over someone.
His white TNs were grimy to say the least, and the generous scuff marks and stains that lined the material weren't coming off.
Being size 10s, and also being more form-fitting on his feet, Joshua's shoes were substantially smaller than Shawn's; something that actually made the task of cleaning them up a little easier.
The hard part about it was the cleaning job itself.
Whereas the Master Shawn had pulled his old skater shoes out of a closet, young jock-star Josh was still wearing his out, resulting in much grimier, much dirtier bottom soles.
I ended up having to lick dirt, dust, pieces of grass and the various other bits and bobs that lined the bottom of his shoes.
Strangely enough though, I wasn't as repulsed as I would have been a year ago.
Josh may have had gross shoes, but his face was simply to die for.
Cleaning his old TNs up was practically an honour by that point.
The fact that he had his shiny black trackies tucked inside his Adidas tube socks, actually gave me a clear view of the material that lined the inside of the shoe opening around his ankles. And based on the dull, brownish colouration of the once-white material, I'd say his TNs were at least a couple of years old.
All in all, Joshua's shoes were dirtier than the ones Shawn had made me worship.
At least on the outside they were.
As far as smell was concerned, I'd be hard pressed to believe they could match anything Shawn had worn on his feet.
With the exception of my own Master's extremely foul-smelling footwear, the potency of Shawn's odour was unmatched.
Even Master Zack's incredibly stinky running shoes were no match for the burly blond jock's odorous sneakers.
In any case, aside from the trouble associated with ingesting the random crap that had accumulated under Josh's shoes, the grovelling session actually went fairly well.
Pizzas were ordered, beers were passed around, and before I knew it, Shawn was back to sitting his huge-ass-self next to Josh and taking my leash away from the younger college jock.
I liked Josh a lot, but for some strange reason, having Shawn reclaim me like that felt sorta good.
He was, after all, the only familiar face here.
And a unhappy as I was about the treatment he'd given me earlier, he was still my rightful Master while Nick was away.
Besides, being collared and leashed by him was definitely not the worst fate I could think of.
Something about Shawn being the buffest, hairiest and heaviest hunk in the room made my belonging to him feel a bit special.
Only the top wolf got to own me.
And that feeling was further accentuated by the fact that Josh wasn't quite finished making me worship his shoes when Shawn sat his huge ass down and took my leash away from him. The Boss had spoken, and even Josh, with all his spunk and zest, had simply tucked his tail and backed down when Shawn grabbed the reins.
The bare-chested hunk was very quick in pulling me away from his younger counterpart's dirty TNs.
Only seconds after he'd regained his position on the couch, my leash was reeled in and I was pulled across the floor until he was satisfied with my proximity.
In the blink of an eye, I was back to having my head in between Master Shawn's hefty skater shoes and was once again ordered to stick my tongue out and get back to work on his oversized size 13s.
As tired and as fatigued as I was from having tongue-lapped two pairs of sneakers one after the other, I resumed my frantic worshipping of Master Shawn's feet and refrained from voicing out any complaints of giving him any lip. Instead of making a fuss, I merely stuck my tongue out and did what I was told.
My hazel eyes would dart upwards every now and then, desperately hoping to meet the superior hunk's approving gaze.
I took a while for him to actually notice me.
But when he did, I practically melted on the spot and ended up working with renewed zeal and energy.
Master Shawn's blue orbs settled on me for only a second, but that was all the encouragement and approval I needed to get my tongue right back in there and suck on those scuff marks.
I wanted to make him proud.
And if him spreading his super beefy legs out and crossing his hands up behind his head was any indication, I was succeeding in my task.
The buff college hunk was now sitting on the end of my leash and looking at the TV screen with his hands crossed behind his head and his huge, hairy armpits exposed for everyone to see.
He was the King, and I was his bitch.
The sight of him was pretty impressive to say the least.
The second period started, and everyone struggled to find seating on the giant L-shaped couch.
Everyone except me, that is...
In truth, there was enough rough for seven or eight grown men.
But Shawn, Chris, Big Mike, Kyle and Joey were exceptionally broad-shouldered and hunky, resulting in an overall very tight fit.
With Joshua, Skaterboy Phil and Big Mike to my left, I had Master Shawn directly above me and Chris, Joey and Kyle to my right.
Overwhelmed at having so many hot guys seated around me, I struggled to keep a cool head and decided to cope with all those curious eyes by focusing on my leash-holder's very large, very imposing shoes.
Shawn's size 13s were massive, but no matter how hard I tried to keep my eyes locked on them, I couldn't help but glance over at his best buddy's bare feet.
Chris had remarkably hairy legs, but his feet were absolutely divine and perfectly proportioned.
From the fact that he was walking barefoot across the apartment and from having seen the gunk stuck between his fat toes, I knew that his soles were pretty gross and dirty.
But the absence of a cheesy stench filtering into my nose, told me that his feet were much milder-smelling than Shawn's and that he didn't suffer from a case of athlete's foot like his slightly heftier friend did.
I found myself both disappointed and pleasantly surprised when Chris got up during the first commercial break and came back in the living room with his beat up black and white Air Jordans in tow.
They were placed down on the floor, and those scrumptious-looking, godly feet of his quickly slid in and disappeared inside the leather basketball shoes.
Only seconds after Master Chris had regained his seat, my body was pulled sideways against the couch, and a silent hand gesture from Big Boss Shawn instantly signaled for me to give the freshly-sneakered hunk some care and attention.
I didn't have to be told twice.
Instantly obeying my young Master's instructions, I puckered my lips up against his hot friend's jumbo size 12 Air Jordans and gave the brown haired stallion a submissive glance in the hopes of garnering his approval.
My non-verbal communication skills must've been better than I thought, 'cause Chris caught on real fast and flashed me his signature wink before giving me a quick nod. In other words, I had his full blessing to proceed.
And proceed I did!
*Slurp. Slurp. Slurp*
Had Shawn been paying attention to what I was doing instead of being focused on the hockey game, he might've been jealous at the overzealous tongue-lapping I was giving his buddy.
I can't really explain it, but everything I was doing at that point just felt incredibly right.
I was tightly bound up with my hands restrained to my ankles.
A set of huge feet and big hairy legs rubbed against my skin and kept my hogtied body pressed up against the large, heavily-occupied couch.
I had a leash around my neck, and a pair of enormous size 12 Air Jordans right in front of my face.
The guy holding my leash was the biggest, baddest Alpha-hunk in the room.
And the incredibly hot beefcake who's shoes I was worshipping had made a not-so-subtle comment about my ass being fuckable if no hot pussy was to be found.
Even better was the fact that everyone was focused on the TV screen and ignoring my pathetic attempts and garnering their favour.
I hate to admit this, but nearly everything about this arrangement was making me feel all warm and tingly on the inside.
I absolutely
adored Chris' shoes and instantly fell in love with the way his Air Jordans felt against my tongue.
He wasn't wearing his socks inside them, and each time he moved his toes or shifted his feet a little, the soft creaking of leather made it to my ears.
I was VERY tempted to press my cheek up against his hairy right ankle and nuzzle my face inside his shoe opening.
But willingly sniffing the brown haired stallion's trainers in front of a room full of horny jocks, might've landed me in a lot of trouble.
After all, I didn't want them knowing I actually
liked this stuff!
Shawn was forcing me to do this.
Or at least, that's what I
wanted them to believe.
By the time the second period ended, the pizza place had still not delivered our order yet.
None of the jocks seemed alarmed though. They'd been warned of a rather hefty delivery delay and appeared okay with eating later than usual.
Once again, the long commercial break and the ensuing hockey commentary failed to captivate the rowdy college audience.
Shawn and most of the other jocks got up, leaving me virtually alone and unattended, save for Kyle who was busy texting on his phone, and Phil, who was apparently in the process of sizing me up like a piece of meat.
For the first time since he'd walked in, our eyes met and we finally got a chance to get a good look at each other.
Him from his lofty position on the couch, and me from my tightly bound up position on the dusty living room floor.
From the smug, superior eyeing he gave me, I could tell that my seniority over him wasn't entering into the equation much.
The twink was shorter than Josh, but probably about as tall as me.
And judging from how slim and undeveloped his musculature was, I knew he couldn't be any heavier than I was.
His face wasn't particularly unattractive or unpleasant to look at, but his features weren't strikingly handsome either.
The small diamond earing on his left earlobe and the carefully groomed "out of bed" hairstyle, gave the kid a very nasty bad boy look.
Skaterboy Phil looked troublesome and he looked mean.
The fact that he wasn't a jock also meant that he didn't score high in my initial approval rating.
Combine that with the smug, disdainful look he was giving me, and you might understand why he and I didn't end up hitting it off very well.
Trouble is, I was the living room bitch.
He was not.