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Big Boss

Sneak Peek

“Right this way Issac,” The large shark in his suit guided the little raccoon through the large halls of the townhome. It was an entire building as one large multi-floored unit with massively vaulted ceilings. The little coon felt almost in an open space with how large the home was. He knew this part of town had some very wealthy residence, but he had no idea that this kind of architecture was affordable in New York.

“Yes, of course,” the raccoon skittered behind the big shark, the coon’s little foot paws clicking on the marble flooring.

“Do you know why you are here, mister Issac?” The shark asked calmly.

“I mean, I provide a very specific service,” Issac chuckled. “I had no idea I had caught the eye of someone so…so um…wealthy?”

The shark nodded with a grunt before opening a large set of double doors. “The Boss has requested you specifically. Consider tonight your interview. If you do as good as you do with those baby feet boys on your channel as you do with the Boss, you’ll be able to consider this place your new home.”

“Wait, you mean I can live here?” Issac asked, as they entered the massive living room. Two stories of windows overlooked the skyline, the building just high enough that the few stories above could see over the buildings across the street.

“If your services are found to be satisfactory,” the shark nodded.

“I…I almost hate to ask, but what would be my pay?” Issac pushed his foreclaws together, his tired eyes wide despite the rings around them. “I know in my video’s I make it look like I’m paying for the honor of worshiping other men’s toes, but that’s just for show. They usually pay me for the fantasy and I…I tape it for them.”

“What is your usual rate?” The shark asked.

“I usually charge a few hundred dollars an hour for my premium services.”

“Add a few more zeros after that and we’d be in business,” The shark grinned.

“A n-n-night?!” Issac’s eyes glittered.

“An hour,” the shark smirked. “Your silence will also be part of your contract, along with your exclusivity. Every aspect of your life will be owned by the Boss. And you’ll thank him for it.”

“Now, when you say own?” Issac cocked his head as they entered a large room with wood paneling and a roaring fire.

“It means I own you, mind body and soul,” a voice boomed from a large armchair. “You do as you’re told, and you do it well, you’ll be a very rich piece of toe floss by the time I’ve grown tired with you.”

Issac’s eyes went wide as he eyed his new employer. There, sat in the massive armchair in nothing but a smoking jacket was a monstrously large fox. Hell, he would say the guy looked more like a wolf, but even a wolf was small compared to that bulk. It was hard to tell with him sitting, but he estimated the beast to be nearly eight feet tall! The red fox sat on his chair, his bulging pecs forcing the split of his smoking jacket open, his powerful arms having forced the velvet and silk up to expose his powerful forearms and vicious claws. Issac cursed the clothing the man wore for covering up such perfection. He longed to see the cobblestones that were assuredly beneath that robe, but he settled for letting his eyes slip down further. His thighs were powerful teardrops of muscle, his calves diamonds of destructive force, and then the coup de gras; HIS feet!

Propped up on an ottoman and hallowed by the crackling flames. Each foot had to be over a foot and a half of corded muscle. Plantigrade foot paws with four powerful toes, each one plump and fighting for space from the other, the claws on them made for tearing flesh from bone. His foot pads were thick, strong, and still looked soft despite the power they exuded. His soles had a sweeping arch down to a powerful heel that could crack skulls.

The flames danced around that dark fur and glinted off those razor claws. They looked like two beastly pieces of hellish weaponry ready to be used to scorch the earth. They were a duo of forbidden fruit, a trap for little foot sluts like the coon. He knew it would only take one taste and he’d be hooked. He’d be addicted to them and no other foot would compare. Issac’s heart raced as he eyed those soles, his little pecker forming a cute little tent in his jeans as he looked at the most powerful foundation of the most powerful man he had ever laid eyes on.

“Boy?” The fox asked, but Issac was fully transfixed by those toes. The beastly man simply smirked.

“A-Are…they real? You…You can’t be real?” Issac gulped back his drool.

“Oh, I’m real all right,” He rumbled and flexed his toes slowly. First he fanned them out, his toes splitting apart to let the firelight slip through them and glinting off a duo of golden toe rings before flexing. Each toe gave a luxurious crack before settling themselves back into their personal throne. Issac had never been jealous of an ottoman more in his life. Sure, he was jealous of a few pix online of furniture getting to support such massive stompers, but this…this was a flat out irrational rage that boiled in his gut. He wanted to feel the weight of those heels on his spine, to feel the power of those soles bear down on him and use him.

“Oh god,” Issac moaned, his legs shaking as his cock throbbed in his jeans, a dark spot slowly forming from his pre soaking through.

“Oh, you’ll call me that once you’ve earned the right.” the fox gave him a cocky smirk. “Mister Renard will have to do for now until you get me hard.”

If Issac had any wits about him, he would know that the Renard family was one of the most prominent crime families in the city. But his safety or the origin of the money he was about to receive was of little importance to him. Hell, he didn’t care if he even got paid anymore. He just wanted to fall to his knees and serve and obey. To worship at the throne of those manly, massive, feet. A tantalizing thought came to the coon. Maybe he could find a way to give the money back. It almost felt like a sin to accept anything in return for the amazing favor Mister Renard was giving him to prostate in front of his duo of soul crushing soles.

“Already on your knees, huh?” Renard gave a small chuckle. “I like that.”

Issac blinked, coming out of his trance. His knees had given out at the sight of such beautiful soles. The coon leaned forward, his hands on the tile as he heard the words of praise from the owner of those monuments to masculinity.

“May I?” Issac asked. The question was vague, but the intention clear. Renard simply scoffed.

“The fuck am I paying you for, slut? Show these soles some fucking respect.”

Issac nodded, crawling forward. The distance was far, but he managed to shuffle quickly to the Boss’s feet. They were even more beautiful up close. The coon gave a light sniff, the wafting aroma of musk mixed with the crackling sweetness of cedar graced Issac’s nose. He lifted his meager paws, his little hands making those massive feet look even larger as he reverently cupped a calf with one hand while running his palm over the inner arch of that foot, his thumb brushing into that pad and slowly working his thumb into it.

It was a delicate dance. Everyone’s feet were different and required the appropriate kind of worship. Much like each deity required different offerings, different feet, more superior feet, required a larger tithe from the little coon. A tithe he willingly offered. At first the fox above was silent as Issac got a feel for what he liked, adding more and more pressure to that sole until he heard a deep crack, the muscles and tendons relaxing deep inside that foot. Renard gave a murr, the big beast leaning into his chair and propping his head up on his fist, observing the little raccoon’s efforts.

“That’s it, right there ya little shit,” Renard rumbled, fanning his toes, the thick muscular digits releasing the slight smell of foot funk before dissipating into a wafting aroma. “OH yeah, I’ve always wanted to know how it felt when you found that spot.”

“Oh, this is nothing,” Issac wasn’t saying it as a brag, but as a humble apology for not doing more. “I’ll give you the royal package. It’s what a stud of your caliber deserves. A beast with feet like this…I’d go to hell and back for.”

As though hell itself were challenging his claim, the logs in the fireplace cracked and fell in on one another, kicking up a shower of sparks. The coon was unphased as he brought his hands back to work over those soles, those toes cracking one at a time, the day’s work melting away into deep seeded relaxation, only for the warmth of those fingers to wring out some sweat from those soles. They glistened, those pads getting slick as the heat from the fire and the rubbing was causing them to dampen, reactivating the day’s salt into a delicious coating of manly musk.

Issac leaned in, his eyes bloodshot with lust as he pressed his lips against the index toe, the one with the toe ring. The toe claw pressed against his nose, threatening to pierce it, and it would be within Renard’s rights as the superior man to mark his face, mark him with his claws, but by the grace of his talented fingers, he was spared a permanent scar as the large fox gave a low rumble. Issac’s lips trembled against that toe, his lips parting, the salty and musky smell of man wafted into his maw and spackled his lungs. He wanted it, he wanted to show his respect, but he was not told to do so yet. He wasn’t allowed to. He wasn’t given the grace of this superior man to do more than prostrate and revel in the strength and warmth of those soles.

“Why don’t you do more?” Renard’s voice rumbled. He wasn’t displeased, but simply curious. “I’ve seen you be ravenous over soles. Do mine not live up to your previous masters?”

“No,” Issac breathed, his spine shuddering as he had to let some of that foot funk leave his lungs. “I simply have no right to. I know my place, beneath your heel. It’s where I belong.” Issac murred, rubbing his cheek against that powerful foot pad. “But if you wish it…if you deem me worthy. I will worship you till the day you bore of me. Please…I never knew I wanted something so much.”

Renard sat there watching the coon beg, his soft fur brushing against his sole, his musky toes smearing their scent onto his face. That was more than enough for the coon to go home happy, but Renard was going to get his money’s worth.

“You truly know your place,” the big fox flexed his toes before pressing them gently on the coon’s muzzle. “I like that in a whore. Your desire to serve shall be granted for now. Disappoint me and I’ll make sure you’re never seen again.”

The threat the mob boss gave was lost in the pure joy ringing in the coon’s ears at hearing he was allowed to do more. He couldn’t contain himself even if he wanted to. He opened his maw and lulled his tongue between a duo of toes as he messaged the deep tissue between them to part them. Issac was a foot savant. He knew exactly what to press and where to get those toes to obey him, to give him access to worship. Renard wouldn’t even need to lift a finger, or toe. Issac would tirelessly do it all.

But that wouldn’t be any fun, now would it?

Issac paused as his tongue was pinched between a duo of toes, the salty, grit of lint keeping his tongue locked in place.

“I didn’t tell you to stop,” Renard rumbled.

Issac got the idea and pulled his tongue through, flossing between that toe and dredging up the lint and salt this man had pounded between his toes that day.

“That’s right you filthy toe floss. Lick it clean.”

Issac gripped that sole, his tongue flicking over a particularly deep spot in the crevice between two, the sensation sending shocks of pleasure up Renard’s leg and into his balls. The big fox rumbled, his cock stirring to life. The massive spire of fox meat pulsing out of his sheath and boning up, pushing his robe aside and throbbing into the open air.

“I think I’ve seen enough,” Renard smirked and waived his shark bodyguard off. “Welcome to your new home, foot fag. You’re going to be my personal door mat and lint licker. Now, earn your keep and really suck those toes clean.”

***

Life on the Renard estate was a kink heaven for Issac. The coon never really lost that tired eye look, but he seemed more vibrant and alive than ever before. That first night when he settled in, he worshiped those stompers, working them over and kissing them with the reverence and respect they deserved. He made sure to stroke every tendon, pop every joint and muscle, until those muscle soles were relaxed as could be. The big fox even let him sleep at the foot of his bed. Well, the footboard bench was really where he slept, but even with Renard’s massive California king sized bed, his feet still rested on the ottoman. The coon was in heaven, snuggling up to those feet, nuzzling and worshiping those soles as his new master snored away.

Issac was woken the next morning to the abrupt feeling of being kicked off the ottoman. It wasn’t on purpose. Mister Renard was simply stretching as he roused himself. The big fox didn’t even noticed. He simply saw the coon and chuckled.

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” the massive naked fox rumbled. “Meet me in the kitchen after my shower.”

“I…of course boss, but…might I help you with your shower?”

“I don’t pay you for that,” Renard cocked a brow. “You already got it that bad you’re going to be doin’ shit for me for free?”

“I-I’d…um…I’d pay you if that’s what you’d want,” Issac muttered. The big fox simply smirked.

“I don’t need some dirty foot slut’s cash,” Renard huffed. “Now, get in the shower, and make it quick.”

That morning Issac washed his new master head to toe, making sure to work in over his muscles, his massive size and sculpted physique. It was a dream come true. Every morning he would help his master bathe, every breakfast he would worship him beneath the table while he read the paper. He would lap over his toes every morning, and every night they would spend time messaging the work day out of his soles. It was a glorious rinse and repeat until one day Boss didn’t come back from work.

Renard’s security detail informed Issac that this wasn’t unusual for Boss to simply not come home. He could be out nailing someone, finishing a business transaction, or a dozen other excuses. So, Issac went to bed alone that night.

In the morning though, he was awoken by Renard whistling at him and snapping his fingers.

“Get up!” The large fox’s voice boomed deep and powerful. “Shower time, slut!”

Issac almost felt hung over, not having gotten his fix from the big fox in nearly twenty four hours. The coon scuttled out from his ottoman and joined his master in the shower. At first Issac thought he was seeing things. Maybe he was blurry eyed, or maybe he just missed being under the fox’s heel so much that he was seeing what he wanted to see, but Renard felt…bigger? Issac could swear he had to reach higher, had to massage harder, had to move further to reach the parts that were his duty to clean. His hands ran over calves of power, his fingers working over the soles of those powerful feet. He ran his fingers down that sole and then laced them between his powerful toes. That’s when Issac noticed that heel bumping further up his arm, past the crook of his elbow. The coon blinked, but quickly went to the other foot, repeating the process and finding that those massive feet, those slabs of perfection, had become larger!

Issac’s heart raced, his mouth watering as his mind struggled to keep up with the reality that those feet were larger.

“Quit your drooling, foot floss,” Renard chuckled. “I don’t want to spend all day showering. Get a move on.”

“Yes Boss!” Issac chirped, working his hands up those calves and hamstrings, the suds accenting every striation and muscle group. He cupped those thick cheeks, working them over and between. He then rinsed off and started from the shoulders and worked his way down, having to really get up on his tip toes on the bench inside the shower to work over that body. Those broad shoulders even stronger and rippling with even the slightest movement. He worked over that granite back before having Boss turn around and work those pecs. Issac murred, a deep blush on his face as he looked up at the titan before him.

“What?” Renard cocked a brow.

“You’re just more man than I could have ever thought anyone could be,” He mured, working over that washboard of abs, his hands coming down to his Adonis belt and then hefting up those massive orbs to suds them up. Issac never broke eye contact with the big fox, the cocky grin spreading on his muzzle.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet, skank,” Renard rumbled. This time when Issack got to his sheath, he could feel that the heft of it was more than just augmented size. It was swelling, the tip of his dick already oozing out.

How Issac wished to look and suck on that dick. He knew his place was at those feet, and he nearly found that cock to be as beautiful as those toes, but if Issac had his way, he’d love to be crushed beneath Boss’s sole at all times. There was nothing hotter on a man than his feet to the coon, and for a man of Renard’s caliber, he had no resistance or desire to resist inside him. He was his boss’s plaything and he knew it. He didn’t even check his bank account. He didn’t care. This wasn’t about the money anymore.

Issac had found his purpose.

The days went on, the coon working over those augmented soles, the massive stompers getting bigger, the Big Boss only getting larger with each passing sun. Every day those soles were larger, each time Issac had to work harder and more diligently to make sure Boss received the same amount of attention he had the day before.

Then, one morning at breakfast on the weekend where Boss wasn’t going to be going anywhere, is when things started to get more intense.

The coon was pinned beneath a foot that covered his entire torso, his body pressed by that hot and steamy sole as he licked between the powerful clawed digits of that foot. Every day, regardless of how big Boss had gotten, no one questioned it. He was nearly twelve feet tall, fifty percent taller than what he was before he started, and yet he seemed to expand more and more. Issac didn’t care as long as he got to be beneath those toes, his little pecker throbbing and oozing his pre all over that heel. The coon never wore clothes anymore.

Issac was grinding his hips forward, offering his throbbing bother to that sole, a smear of his pre marring his Master’s perfect soles for him to clean up.

“Do you like your life here Issac?” Mister Renard rumbled.

“Yes Master,” Issac was too lost in the pleasure of those soles, one pinning him down, the other pressed against his muzzle.

“Good,” Renard rumbled. “And you want to please me?”

“Whatever it is you desire,” Issac truly meant that as he spoke into the crevice of those toes, his tongue lulling between them as that big fox flexed them forcing him to drag his tongue through the salty, musky ravine between those digits.

“It think it’s about time I marked you then, as mine,” Renard had a grin in his voice, but all Issac saw were those toes flexing. Those powerful digits, all four of them flexed, only three of them able to fit on his face at a time.

“Master?” Issac paused before giving a gasp as that foot slowly raked down his face. It stung, but Issac didn’t care. It was his master marking him, making him his. Blood trickled over his face as it was scared by those powerful toes. Issac gave a shuddering gasp, his cock throbbing and letting loose his meager load. He made out with those toes, his tongue lulling between them, working over any blood that he may have left behind and working over the salty musk still clinging to those powerful toes. Each claw was licked clean, the coon’s tongue tainted by foot funk and his own unworthy essence.

“Yes,” Issac moaned, that other foot flexing and raking over his chest, marking him further as he worshiped and prostrated himself before those soles. “Yes, I’m yours. You can do whatever you wish to me. You’re perfection incarnate.”

“Not yet,” Renard chuckled darkly. “But soon.”

The big fox was wearing only a robe, his cock getting hard and poking out from the white fabric. The day went on like that, Issac being pinned and degraded over and over. Renard was getting more aggressive, his hunger for obedience and subjugation growing with his size.

Issac had been tended to by the Security, ensuring he would be fine with those marks, but when he came to the bedroom to lay with his master’s augmented soles, he saw something in the back of the room. It was light. It was a sliver of light coming from behind a bookcase. Normally he would have let well enough alone, but he couldn’t help himself. He came up to the bookcase and pulled it away from the wall just enough to peer behind it.

To call it a sex dungeon was almost an insult. Renard stood over a massive beast of a man, an elephant that was trying to push him off, but the fox had him pinned in the center while half a dozen other people were lashed to the wall. Each one a hulking beast of a man, their bodies clearly on some aggressive kit to make them body building beasts, yet their faces were hidden under hoods while lashed with steel to the wall. Even the elephant would have been an imposing figure if it weren’t for Renard’s mass. The nearly fifteen foot tall beast of a fox was easily man handling him, pinning him to the floor. And they were both naked.

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