https://www.furaffinity.net/view/55520742/

Match of the Day [Musky]

I was just a face in the dense crowd, one of many thousands hoping for an autograph from my hero. I watched every match he played with wide-eyed wonder, I knew all his techniques, and like any true fan I…might have had a slight crush on him. But I wasn’t the only one, a single voice called out “He’s here!!” and the crowd burst into screaming cheers, with me being pushed around the soupy crowd as they all rushed to get a sign from him. I was shoved around and eventually spat out of the bustling crowd, and I only managed to catch a glimpse of him before the rest of his team came out, the crowd once again swarming them like a cloud of mosquitoes, hungry for their celebrity attention. But what a glimpse it was…head to toe in mud, sweat, cuts and bruises from such a rough match. I saw it on the big screen earlier, there was a reason why he was such a controversial player. The press gave him the nickname “Pirate” over his slobby, rowdy, boisterous behaviour…it was meant as an insult, but he ended up using it more than his real name, he almost took pride in how people saw him. I remember a news article when he was signed on with the team: He walked right off the pitch, pushed past security, trod his muddy cleats over the nice pristine office of his new manager, and demanded they gave him a better offer.

He is such a smug, self-indulgent shithead. But as embarrassing as it is to admit it to myself, that’s exactly why I was so obsessed with him. I did always have a “thing” for dominant, arrogant men who treated me like their lesser, I’d always get this little tingle in my mind that told me to do what they ordered me to do, no matter how humiliating or degrading it was, and a dickhead like Pirate? He drove me wild. The worse he acted the more it made my cock push against its chastity cage, and I felt a stupid idea come through my head as I watched him duck into a side door near the stadium exits. The team’s security were too busy quelling the trembling mass of people harassing the rest of the team, the door didn’t look locked…and the crowd was far too distracted to have even seen Pirate vanish through it. I hastily approached it, my head darting back and forth to see if anyone had noticed me, and pushed myself through it before the security guards could turn to look at me. Compared to the loud screaming of the crowd, the hallway I found myself in was quiet and dark. I could see the glow of another room at the end of it and hear Pirate’s voice as he was talking on the phone. I slowly approached closer and closer, beginning to understand what he was saying: About how his team sucks compared to him, but not as badly as the other guys, typical bragging before he clicked it off just as I rounded the corner into some kind of recreation room.

Pirate was sitting there on a sofa, mostly nude, his sweaty and rough body exposed to me. Right away his eyes locked with mine, his expression dropped to a slight anger. “Who th’ fuck are you? You better explain before I get security…an’ trust me, you’ll WANT em t’ get my boots off yer face!”

I froze in front of him. It was less his attempt at intimidation and far more how exposed he was to me that stopped me. I didn't blink, I didn’t breathe, I couldn’t do anything for a moment as my mind raced to come out with an excuse. “I’m your personal assistant, Sir! I’m here to…cough…ack…oh f-fuck!”
I took a sharp breath in and my words cut out immediately. Pirate kicked his boots on the table and flung them off as he rested his filthy talons on the table. The intense, sweaty stink of his bird feet made me retch…it smelled like he never, ever washed them, and with the amount of filth and grime that plastered every single inch of those yellow soles. I felt weak in front of them, my mouth grew wet with saliva, my knees were failing me, every bit of me wanted to kneel and give them one sniff…even if that would result in me getting a beating and then a jail term. I got at least enough of my bearings to finish my sentence: “Ughh, s-sorry Sir, uhm…I’m your personal assistant, and if there’s anything you need you can only ask! And might I say, I’m a big fan of your talons…of your TECHNIQUES! Of…ah…your…”

My words petered out as I saw a grin turn on his face as he noticed my little freudian slip. I tried to speak again but Pirate relaxed back and pointed at my crotch. “You appear t’ have pissed yerself, little mammal assistant.”

I looked back and yelped as I saw my trousers stained with a slimy spot. My caged dick was leaking so much just sniffing the stink in the air that I had a pleasureless orgasm, the tiny bulge pulsing where the spot was. It was obviously not piss, and as my terrified eyes looked up to greet his grin I could see his tapered cock growing from his hefty feather-pubes. He spread his body out more and wiggled his toes at me, laughing a bit at just how whimpery and weak I was for him. “Let’s cut th’ bullshit, boy. You ain’t an assistance. Yer a superfan. I charge fer autographs, by th’ way. So get those soaked clothes off an’ give that wallet here, now.” He put his talons back down on the floor, almost denying me even the sight till I did what he ordered me to do.

There goes that feeling again. That need to obey, to serve my arrogant better and stroke their egoes. I didn’t even hesitate as I disrobed, reached into my pocket, and threw it at him, kneeling and huffing the fetid air with his toes only a few inches away from my nose. I leaned out to sniff them, desperate to lick them, but I couldn’t. Not till I was told to. Pirate counted out my wallet’s contents and pulled every note from it, that distinctive smugness so apparent. Pirate got millions from his contract. Making me pay was just hammering home that serving him is a privilege, and my cock leaked on the floor as he counted out HIS cash : “Hmm, $200. It’ll give ya twenty minutes because I’m in a good mood t’day. Now SERVE.”

I scurried over to his feet and started to kiss them, all those years fawning over just the sight of him, and now I have the absolute treat of getting to touch his stinking birdfeet. I couldn’t help myself, I couldn’t hold back one bit. I kissed every single grimy top scale with the same love I’d give a partner, then started to clean the bits of grime from on top of them, all while trying not to retch too hard at the ever-swampy stench of his sweat. I shivered when I felt him press his other foot on my back, grinding some of that sweat into me, marking me as his footrug. I felt so happy. I even mumbled thanks to his feet in between kisses and licks, I was in heaven under his soles. “Now lift them up and sniff them, rug.” he ordered, and I obeyed: Picking up his heavy, massive soles and holding them to my face. I shivered at the sight and glory of his soles. They were so big that all he’d have to do was clench his talons and they’d entirely engulf my face in that soft, stinking perfection. I took a deep breath and had to fight my instinct to retch. “Now hold that stink in yer lungs, you fuckin’ talon slut. Show th’ proper reverence fer it.”

I tried as hard as I could, letting his filth stain my lungs, letting it fester in there until my body could take no more and I coughed it out, but the moment I did he merely commanded me to take another hefty, stinking lungful of it in. Over and over, until i was a mind-melted, quivering mess, with my denied cock straining harder than it ever did as a drooling lake of clear pre streamed from it. I was so broken that when he eventually told me to start licking the grime encrusted sole I called him my Master. I heard him chuckle from under his feet. “Did you jus’ call me…Master~? God, you really are pathetic. Show yer Master th’ love he deserves!”

I started to suck on his toes, playing with them like I would suck someone’s cock. I felt a little tingle of pride as, just for a moment, his overly-dominant facade dropped and he groaned with delight feeling my tongue swirling around his toes. I had to do better, I had to please him. Swirling my tongue around his toes covered my tongue in salty, sweaty grime and yet barely made a dent in how filthy his feet were. My eyes rolled into the back of my head, utterly musk-zonked on how horribly perfect they were. I pulled back and went to his soles, lapping the reeking grime off of them, too. They were so soft that my tongue was almost enveloped in them, and I fantasised about how they’d feel pressed against my caged cock. I shivered when his sole touched my face, all while hungrily lapping away at his grimy, nasty soles. My mouth was drying up…I asked him if I could get a drink, and all he did was spit into my maw and order me to continue. That made my cage jolt, a shot of pre squirted out…I could feel something building up inside me the more my imagination drifted to his soles smothering my cage. It was too much…I fell forward and felt a hands-free climax overtake me, the first one I had in weeks, and it hit me hard. I screamed out “MASTER!” and collapsed on my hands and knees, spurting out cum all over the floor. Pirate just laughed at me, putting his saliva-slicked yet still-grimy soles on my back, calling me pathetic from cumming from licking his stinking feet alone. All I could do was thank him for letting me serve his talons, even if I had to pay for the privilege it was worth every penny and then some.

“Better come back next week with more, eh~?” he said, wiping more grime onto my back. “Y-Yes Sir, thank you Sir…” I stammered out, before being told to get dressed and get lost, his number in my back pocket.

I sat in my car with my mind still racing. The stink of his feet were still covering my body, and I only now just realised how much I reeked like an old sock hamper. The taste lingered on my dry maw, grime and filth caked my muzzle. I was marked as his talon bitch from head to toe…I didn’t want to wash it off. I wanted to go out onto the street and tell everyone I was Pirate’s personal talonrug.

I hoped I could be that forever. All I had to do was keep paying up.