Captivated (Part II)

It’s been almost a half hour now that my boot’s been tied to the boy’s face. I’ve been relaxing, sipping a beer and watching the game, and I know the boy’s suffering. He coughs every once in a while and I can sometimes hear the faint sound of gagging, likely due to the heavy, thick air trapped between the shoe and his nose. I know a significant amount of sweat has dripped into his mouth from the insole. “Good,” I think, “he needs to get accustomed to that.” Finally, after a significantly long coughing fit, I relent. “Alright, kid,” I say commandingly, “times up.” I rip the tape off the shoe and he takes a huge gulp of air, panting heavily at its freshness. “That’s right, boy,” I say, a malicious smile creeping on my face, “you’ll definitely wanna take in as much of that while you still can.” A look of terror crept up on his face, knowing what I was about to do next. My socked feet, now yellowed and stained from the sweat I’ve poured into them for about 4 days, found their way to the boy’s face, muffling out his protests with their damp stink. I sit there knowing that the boy is suffering. I’ve done everything in these socks for the past couple of days. Haven’t showered, haven’t cleaned them, kept them in my stinking boots to make sure nothing removed the smell. Need the boy to take it all in. Positioning my socked toes over his now-scared eyes, I make sure his senses are completely engulfed in my feet. The wet socks stick to his face as I rub them around, trying to smear the smell into his skin. Want it to stick to him, to be his cologne. I want the boy to walk around with my foot stink on his face knowing that people will know who he belongs to because of the mark I’ve left. I let up for 5 seconds, letting him grasp for some air a bit while still looking at my massive yellowed-socks. Finally, I drop down again, clamping his nose with my two biggest toes, holding him there for as long as he can take. His face turns bright red, and as soon as he looks like he’s gonna pass out, I unclamp and spread my toes around his nose, making him take in alllllllll that stink. All that hard day’s work culminating between my toes in lint, toejam and sweat is now being inhaled by my boy. He coughs and gags at the stink, his face dripping with my sweat and I laugh. “I know, I know, boy,” I say between chuckles, “they’ve never smelled like that, huh? Can smell them from here, and sure am glad I’m not in your position.” Finally, after a couple more rounds of my clamping game, I decide to really let him have it. “Okay boy, get ready!” I say, reaching down and peeling my socks off. It takes a couple of minutes to get them fully off- the sweat and dampness lend themselves to some cling, and even after they come off, the amount of lint stuck to my feet is insurmountable. “Okay boy, open wide!”