Learn To Love It

My eyes opened to the now-familiar sight of the bare, grey walls of the room that had been my home for lord knows how long now.

Days had ceased to have any meaning, my sense of time revolved almost entirely around my captors' whims. If I was awake- as I was now, it was solely because she wanted me to be. If I was asleep- well, unconscious would be a better term, it was because she was kind enough to let me get some rest in between our 'sessions'.

We'd met one night at a bar when I was drawn in by her dark brown eyes and long golden-brown hair. I was so loaded I didn't even realize I hadn't even gotten her name before we started making out in the alleyway out back, and the last full memory I have is of her soft red lips smiling at me as the world turned to darkness.

When I awoke here the first time, I honestly thought she was just messing around. Considering I was stark naked and tied to an old bed frame, the possibility certainly existed that she had some sort of twisted sex game in mind for us. And to an extent, I was almost right, even if her take on a 'game' was a whole lot different than mine.

A door opened behind me and she waltzed in, still wearing the lacy black top, cut off Daisy Dukes, fishnets, and faded combat boots she'd had on at the bar, although it was possible that days had passed and she simply hadn't bothered to change out of them.

I tried to speak but realized in my daze that there was a ball-gag in my mouth, and when she noticed my attempt she smirked wickedly at it. "Don't worry baby. Once you're a good boy, I'll put something a lot nicer between those lips of yours." I had no idea what she was getting at and started to struggle against my restraints to no avail.

She ignored my attempts at escape, instead turning her attention to my limp cock, which she poked at gently with a red-painted fingernail. "Aww, such an adorable little thing. I bet you thought you were going to stick this tiny dick inside my pussy, didn't you?" Her smirk turned cruel as she held her open palm beside it, "With a cock this size I doubt I'd have felt a thing."

Now Id always considered myself, if nothing else, average, and none of the women I'd slept with had ever told me otherwise. Yet looking at her hand beside my cock and hearing her taunt while I was in such a precarious position, I found myself unable to disagree with her. She had no reason to lie after all- she held all the cards, and I couldn't do anything but wait and see what she planned to do with them.

The first thing she did, and the image which has stuck in my mind even after countless such repeats since that day, was remove her boot.

It wasn't off her foot ten seconds when the smell reached my nostrils, and I tried to turn my head every which way to try and get away from the foul odor that was already permeating the air of the small room. That made her smile grow even wider, almost as if she had been expecting such a reaction.

Then, my captor picked up her boot and approached me, her red lips pursed together in a devilish smirk, and before I could do anything she placed the boot over my mouth and nose and tied the laces around my head to keep it stuck in place.

If I'd thought the smell was bad before, it was almost intolerable now. It burrowed into my nostrils and brought tears to my eyes it was so strong and disgusting, and all the while my captor took great pleasure in my likely strained expression. In fact, she reveled in it, letting out a cruel giggle at my expense before turning her attention back to my crotch.

"I know it smells pretty bad right now," she whispered softly as she toyed with my flaccid cock, the appendage almost invisible in her hand, "But when I'm through with you, you're gonna love it."

At the time, I couldn't fathom how she figured that, but then, I had no idea what she truly had in store for me.

Pursing her lips, she let a massive wad of spit dribble down onto the palm of her hand, then used it to grab hold of my cock. I was disgusted at the sight of it, but then her slick and slippery palm wrapped itself around my dick and began a slow, steady, almost rhythmic stroke up and down and all around, forcing me to take in breath after breath of her foul boot.

My head- already reeling from whatever she had drugged me with in the first place as well as the smell, grew lighter the more of her stink I drank in, but her massaging of my cock kept me just coherent enough to be aware of my situation. It honestly took me far less time than I would have assumed for me to start growing hard, but given how skilled she seemed to be at manipulating my cock, it wasn't too surprising.

She never changed her speed, instead keeping up her slow, steady rhythm for what felt like hours given how dazed her boot stench made me, but also never pushing me right too far. My captor edged me like a pro, keeping me just close enough to cumming without allowing me to.

And all the while, all I could do was lay there with her boot tied around my face, taking in more and more her sweat-filled boots with every stroke of her hand.

I don't know how long she toyed with me for, but eventually, she stopped and took a seat on a nearby stool, watching with academic interest to see how long it took for my cock to soften again without her hand to keep it hard. As it deflated, she giggled once again at its size before she rose to untie her boot from my face.

If I thought her game was over, I was sorely mistaken. Instead, she removed her other boot and placed it over my face before beginning the whole thing all over again. Another disgusting glob of saliva was spat into her hand and then she was up and running, stroking my cock one-handed- for she didn't need another much to my continued disgrace, and forcing more and more of her stench into my nose and lungs by way of her expert handiwork.

Eventually- either from the stench or the strain or by her own design, I blacked out and remained as such for what could have been a day or a week. All I knew what that the next time I woke up, I was still tied to the bedframe, and she was waiting beside me.

My cock began to stiffen at the sight of her, and she giggled once more. "Aww, your tiny prick is so happy to see me, isn't it?" My captor teased, poking at it with her nail and watching it grow without aid. Her attire had changed just a little bit- the black lacy top and Daisy Dukes exchanged for a black miniskirt and a red and black top, but the fishnets and combat boots remained, and I shuddered at the realization of what was coming.

A moment later, her boot was tied around my head and her spit-covered hand was around my cock, and thus began our ritual. One which would be repeated countless times in the days that followed. Each time, she would bring me to the very edge while her I was forced to breathe in the stench of her boot, only to stop, let my cock soften again, and repeat the process with her other one.

Sometimes, my captor would change things up just a little. She would remove the ball gag while I was unconscious, and replace it with one of her sweat-drenched socks, so that while she skilfully manipulated my cock I would be forced to suck down mouthfuls of dirt and sweat, much to my disgust and her delight.

Yet, what was more disgusting, or rather, disturbing to me, was when I realized that I was starting to enjoy it.

Not the smell or the taste of course, but what my captor was doing to me. She was amazing, and though each time she left me with nothing more than aching blue balls and an incredible desire to cum, I began to look forward to her skilled hands whenever she entered the room.

It was my cock that gave me away, and she made a point to acknowledge it each and every time she entered the room. It would poke up at the sound of the door opening as well as the noise her boots made on the floor. "Is your prick hard for me baby?" She asked from the doorway, "I can't see it from here."

Her continued mockery of my member, which I had found degrading at the start, began to sound like music to my ears the more she said them. "Yes", I inwardly told myself, "I have a tiny dick". One that loved all the attention she was giving it, and by extension, me.

I tried to tell myself that was the only thing I was enjoying- her edging of me, as well as the verbal humiliation that came hand-in-hand with it. But the more time passed, the harder it became to convince myself of that fact. Over time, I found that when I saw her remove her boot and approach me with it, or tasted her sock in my mouth, I no longer wished to turn away in disgust.

Much as I attempted to attribute this to my desire for her to toy with my cock, it was plain to see there was more to it. Much as I hated to admit it, I was starting to want to smell her boots.

That scent- which only grew stronger the more she wore them in between our 'sessions', remained pungent as could be, yet I began to feel drool forming in my mouth whenever she tied one around my head. That sweaty, stinky odor of feet, dirt, and old leather, was now being welcome into my lungs each and every time she wrapped her fingers around my tiny cock.

And still, she never finished me off.

She would bring me to the edge with that incredibly skilled hand of hers but never let me cum. The ache in my balls was painful, yet I didn't want her to stop. I didn't want any of this to stop, not anymore. The sensations and the scent and everything else my captor was doing to me, I never wanted it to end. But all good things must eventually, as I was about to discover.

My eyes opened to the now-familiar sight of the bare, grey walls of the room that had been my home for lord knows how long now. But this time, my restraints were gone, as was the sock gag she had put in before our last 'session'. I moved to sit up for the first time in ages and felt my body resist the effort before eventually allowing me to rise to a sitting position.

Looking around, I noticed a little more in the room than I had before. My clothes from the night at the bar were neatly piled on a chair in the corner, and there was a window on the wall to my left that showed a rather nice looking tree-filled backyard. Behind me was a bookshelf and a door, one which was ajar and practically begging me to use it.

I didn't know what to make of this- was it some sort of trap or test? It seemed far too perfect to be anything else, but a part of me didn't care and was screaming at me to pick up my clothes and get as far away from here as possible. Thing is, that wasn't the part in the driver's seat. Another part wanted me to stay here and commanded me to do so.

After a few minutes, the door opened completely, and my captor stood in the doorway dressed exactly as she had the night we'd first met. Her face registered a mix of surprise and happiness, and she smiled at me in a way that filled me with immense warmth. "You didn't try to run. I'm impressed."

Though I wanted to say something now that I had the opportunity, I found I was unable to. My mouth was dry and, after having not spoken in what could have been weeks or months by this point, seemed incapable of forming words. Instead, I nodded and she smiled as she approached the bed.

Almost instinctively, I laid back down- assuming the position my body had been in all this time even without the restraints. My captor slowly removed her boot and tied it to my face, smiling softly when I didn't put up the slightest bit of resistance. "You like it, don't you baby?"

I nodded without any shame. I did. I loved the smell of her boots and her feet, even now when it was beyond strong and would have likely made me want to vomit in the past, it smelled like the greatest thing in the world to me. "Good boy," she said softly as she spat a glob of saliva onto her hand once more before blessing my tiny cock with its presence.

This time, however, her rhythm changed. While it began slow and steady as it had in the past, she steadily increased the frequency of her strokes when she saw how happy I was indulging in the scent of her boots. I was taking in great deep breaths- by choice now, not by force, and she gleefully continued with her handjob.

The more her hand moved about my straining erection, the more I could feel my balls begin to tighten and my body start to shiver. Much as I expected her to leave me high and dry yet again, somehow I knew that was not going to be the case. This was it, her gift to me for not leaving when the chance was offered to me.

"You love my smelly boots, don't you baby?" She cooed as she kept stroking, and I frantically nodded my head. "You're going to stay here with me, and spend your days sniffing my boots and my feet and doing whatever I want, aren't you?" I nodded again, loving the sound of that offer far more than I expected to. The idea of staying with her, of being allowed the privilege of smelling her boots and feet, sounded like paradise to me now.

With a grin, she stroked even fast, and as my body began to buckle beneath her skilled hand, she reached down and picked up her other boot and held it by the head of my cock. I felt her spit-covered fingers slip and slide along my erection as months' worth of built-up cum exploded out and into her waiting boot.

My body jolted as wave after wave shot out, and my lungs took in as much of her scent as they could, and all the while she didn't let up. My captor milked every last drop she had built up over the countless days and nights like this one out of my aching cock and balls and into her boot, She kept at it until my body had given up every ounce of cum it had in it, and my cock returned to its tiny, flaccid form.

As I lay there, breathing deeply and in such a euphoric daze that the world around me may as well ceased to exist, she walked over and untied the boot from my face, only to tip its twin over so that all of my warm, sticky cum could pour out into my waiting mouth.

My captor smiled as I drank it all down, whispering sweetly into my ear. "Drink it all up, baby. I told you I'd put something nicer in between your lips, didn't I?"

She had, and I nodded as I swallowed every drop of cum she had collected, then closed my eyes as she gently kissed my forehead. "Good boy," she said as I blacked out from the strain, knowing that when I awoke next time, things would be a little different.

I had learned to love her ways, and she had plenty more where these came from.