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Chapter #8

"Give my feet a good ol' rub"

    by: ~Benjamyn~ Author IconMail Icon
Billie Joe Armstrong, the dead eyed, sharp-tongued Greenday rocker has you all to himself and he's enjoying every second of it. You can't imagine why anyone who's been so lucky in life would want to humiliate and degrade an innocent human being for sport, as if a guy like this didn't have the world at his dirty feet already. But, you suppose, there's no overestimating man's potential for cruelty. Even now, as Billie Joe kicks off his beaten up black & white Chucks and drags off his putrid socks to reveal two filthy feet glistening with sweat, not a trace of guilt registers on the grimy giant's unshaven face. He just snickers, and gives you a squeeze in his hand which smells of sweat, booze and nicotine.

Your new owner places you on the carpet, which smells like a maid hasn't been let near it for weeks, and his sweaty toes wiggle eagerly in front of you. It's like staring at two ugly animals, just emerged from a swamp, all slimy and hostile, and knowing you have to climb right onto them. It's a horrific image, even after the horror you went through with your last punk god owner.

"Get a move on, asswipe, or you're spending the day in my Chuck's. Scout's honour." He says with a devil-like snarl.

You don't need any more coaxing. You dive onto your knees and rub your open hands onto the slightly hairy toes, which feel less slimy than you expected, but the smell of unwashed feet wafting up in your feet is criminal. "Yeah, that's right, don't forget daddy's dirty soles, slave." He says in a cocky taunt, lifting one foot onto its heel so you can crawl under and massage your fleshy roof. It's a grim prospect that you have to force yourself to face, but you crawl under the shelter of Billie Joe's toxic-smelling foot and rub the moist skin as old sweat begins to trickle down on you. It's awful. It's unbearable. And right before you mean to duck back out for air..
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