Lick his feet

You tremble as your tongue slips between your lips, and you tentatively drag it across the top of his foot. You feel every taut tendon, every pulsing vein, every coarse hair against your tongue...and something deep inside your brain suddenly shifts.

It does not matter to you that you are licking literal dirt of this Man's feet. Or rather, perhaps a better way of thinking about it, and a more profound realization, is not that it does not matter, but that nothing has ever mattered more. It is no longer about survival.

It is about your need to do this.

Your cock pounds into a full erection in seconds--harder than you have ever felt it before. You lick his foot with more certainty, now relishing the taste and feel of it, the dirt clinging to your tongue, the way the hairs on the tops of his feet make you feel just a slight gagging sensation, but this only drives you to lick his feet with more pressure, more passion.

You make out with his feet like you have never made out with anyone or anything. You need his feet in your face, on your tongue.

No.

You have caught yourself thinking about it all wrong again as another epiphany hits.

It is not about your need, for your needs no longer matter.

Only His do.

You realize as you lie on the jungle floor kissing and licking the feet of this Man that the entire purpose of your existence is to serve Him. Of course you were wrecked here on this island with Him. You were born for this. The universe brought you into it for no reason other than to serve this Man.

The realizations seem to flood your very being. You are suddenly thinking of words like "Him" and "He" and "His" with special reverence.

"His." You shoot your load immediately as you realize that this word suddenly describes all you want to be for the rest of your life.

You feel a powerful grip on the back of your neck, and immediately comply with the **** of His hand as He hauls you up to your knees. He grabs the sides of your head and forces you to look up at Him. He snarls at you, then spits in your face. Your body responds by first convulsing into a vigorous sort of tremor as a **** half-gasp, half-moan escapes your lips, and your cock is suddenly pulsing into hardness again even though you just came.

You desperately want to look at His cock, which is now right in front of your face; but you instinctively understand that He wants you not to break eye contact with Him, but as He glares down at you, this becomes harder and harder. You feel as though you are shrinking, or that He is growing, or perhaps both. Either way, He towers over you more powerfully by the second, and though you know He wants you to keep looking in His eyes, all you want to do is fall on your face and worship at His feet.

The terrible pressure mounts, and tears build up in your eyes over this internal conflict--the need to obey His desires versus the fear of God--Him--He has now put in you making you want to avert your eyes.

Fortunately, He breaks this tension for you with a small sign of appeasement. He half-grins as he looks down at you, exhaling in a way that almost sounds like a knowing, amused laugh-grunt.

Keeping His right hand firmly gripping the back of your neck, He hauls you to your feet, then shoves you around in front of him, pushing you back in the direction from which He had originally approached you.

You stumble along, your erection bulging out your underwear and stained with the cum you shot while you were kissing and licking His feet, but make every effort to show Him that you will continue to submit to Him.

He leads you through some trees, following a path He must regularly keep somewhat clear, and after several minutes you arrive at what is clearly His campsite, or perhaps what He considers home. There is a ring of rocks with the remains of a fire inside it, and a makeshift hut or tent built out of branches covered with very large leaves.

He roughly shoves you down to the ground and squats down. He begins poking and prodding at your body, clearly exploring your body. He is curious about your underwear, but His curiosity runs its course and He easily rips them off of you, leaving you naked and throbbing.

He grabs your hard cock, engulfing it with His huge, powerful hand, then grabs His own much bigger member (even though He is soft, He is still much bigger) and flops it around. He seems intrigued with your erection. You guess from his appearance that He is perhaps in His twenties, so physiologically speaking He must certainly have experienced an erection. But perhaps He has been here so long--alone--that He does not understand what it means.

He squeezes your balls hard, and when you flinch and cry out, he utters another grunt-laugh, then does it again. You know better than to try to fight Him off or otherwise resist Him.

He finishes inspecting the rest of your body. He has compared all of your body parts to His, and clearly has reached the conclusion--even if He cannot directly communicate it--that you are the same kind of being He is, though clearly lesser in every way.

It seems equally clear as He now sits there simply staring at you that He has not yet determined what to make of you.

If He has been here as long a it seems He may have been, and given His earlier behavior, you realize **** may still be something He is considering. For all you know, He might even come to think of you as a food source.

You don't want that, obviously. You need to show Him that you can be useful to Him. That you want to be useful to Him. That you want to serve Him.

"Master?" you say. The word comes without hesitation. It feels completely right.

He grunts and glares at you.

"That's who You are," you say, gesturing toward Him. "Master." You have no idea if He comprehends any of what you are saying. He certainly showed no sign of understanding anything you tried to say before.

"Mas...ter," He says haltingly.

"Yes!" you say, excited. Perhaps it is nothing but mimicry--He may retain none of the language skills He originally possessed, if any. But the fact that He can at least repeat the sounds is promising. "You are Master. You are my Master."

"Master," he says more confidently, pointing to His chest.

"Yes, Master," you agree. He points at you and His eyebrows raise as He grunts. He is clearly asking who you are.

"****," you say without hesitation. "I am Your ****."

"S...suh...slah...****."

"Yes, Master," you agree happily. "You are my Master, and I am Your ****."

"My Master, your ****," He says.

"No, You are my Master," you say, emphasizing the possessive pronoun as you point to yourself, "and I am Your ****."

"Your Master," He says, pointing to Himself. Then, "My ****." He points at you.

"Yes, Master."

"My ****."

"Yes!" you are excited, and having a hard time believing that just yesterday you would have been horrified by the prospect of what now excites you.

He points at your hard cock and again his eyebrows raise and he grunts questioningly.

Before this moment, you perhaps would have been embarrassed by this interaction. But now, you simply realize you have a choice. You are His ****--no question.

But...are you going to try to serve Him sexually, or exclusively in other ways? Of course you want His cock. There is no question of that. But would that be focusing on your desires instead of His? Unless, of course, He enjoys having you service Him sexually. How would He know if you don't try? Then again, perhaps He will not respond well at all to it, and will become angry and violent.

Do you try to pursue sex...or not?