Living with Connor was… difficult, to say the least. It started out nicely enough; we were paired up together to be roommates in college. He was on the soccer team and seemed like a nice enough guy. But ever since I accidentally left my foot fetish blog open on my computer and he found it… it hasn’t been the same. Now my living with him is less as a roommate, and more as a servant. Every day he makes me do the chores around the apartment: cleaning, cooking, taking out the trash, etc.Every day when he gets home from classes or soccer practice, I’m supposed to be kneeling by the door, ready to tend to his every whim. This usually involves getting him a drink, giving him a full report on what I managed to complete for him today, and giving his feet a rub while he relaxes and watches TV. On one day in particular, he arrived back at the apartment while I waited patiently on my knees. He gave me a cocky grin and told me that the essay I had written for his boring English class received an A. The pictures above show what he gave me as a “reward” for being such a “useful fag”: he flipped me off, and made me lick his dirty feet clean. Moment like this made me feel lucky to have met Connor and been put in my place by him. As I felt his foot sweat and dirt off his foot on my tongue, I could see Connor grinning down at me smugly, and chuckling, making fun of me. It was moments like this that made my enslavement my Connor worth it.
Every moment of your enslavement is to be cherished, faggot. Serving me is a gift and you’re not to forget that.
