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Rich in (Sole) Privilege

For 3rdHarleyJoe

By Draconicon

Wyatt sat on one of the plush ottomans in the family living room, huffing for breath, the beagle's arms wrapped around his middle as he tried to calm himself down. It was all but impossible, considering his humiliation, but he still tried. His cheeks burned, and it was everything that he could do to keep from contorting himself into a ball and staying like that.

Why did he have to find them? Why?

The beagle's cheeks burned hotter as he flashed back to what had happened barely more than an hour ago. The family servant, Burnes, had been cleaning his room. Something that honestly shouldn't have happened, if the beagle had just kept up on the cleaning himself, but it had been a lazy day, and -

And he found...them...

Not just the magazines, which were embarrassing enough. Fetish 'zines, things that no respectable young man of his station should have had. Showing off soles, showing off hot feet and older men, and - but that had been just the start of it. He had almost been able to explain that, saying that they were for a friend. He had no way of backing that up with his admittedly pathetic social life, but then, things got that much worse. The older Irish Terrier had bent down, and...and...

He saw the socks...

And then asked the question that Wyatt had no way to answer. Were they Burnes's socks?

The beagle slumped forward, finally giving way. He sat there with his head against his knees, fighting the humiliation and the embarrassment and the urge to just run. God, the fact that he had been exposed like this...

What if he tells mom and dad?

The idea of being outed was bad enough. Being outed by someone that had helped care for him so much, the possibility of losing that respect and that friendship at the same moment, was so much worse.

He was still trying to pull himself together, still trying to come up with some sort of idea of how the hell he was supposed to explain this, when he heard footsteps coming down the hall adjacent to the living room. He sat up quickly, just in case -

But it wasn't any of the other servants. They would have gone home by this point, he realized, done for the day. The only one that stayed this late, well-past sundown, was the chief butler. Burnes.

The Irish Terrier stepped into the room dressed in a robe, held tight around his middle by a cloth belt and a hand pulled tight at the chest. In his other hand was a cup of milk, steaming hot as tea might have been. The older canine arched an eyebrow at him.

"Still awake, young master?" the older male said.

"I can't..."

"You still feel bad, hmm?"

"I..."

He didn't even feel right sitting, not after he'd been that disrespectful. He jumped to his feet, only for Burnes to smile, shaking his head. The Irish Terrier sat down on one of the more proper seats, and gestured for Wyatt to sit on the ottoman again. The beagle hesitated, but slowly took his telling and sat down.

"I'm sorry," Wyatt said, unable to think of anything else. "What I did was wrong, and inappropriate, and -"

"Expected, young master."

"...What?"

"Are you that surprised, young master?" the Irish Terrier asked, lifting a spoon from his saucer and stirring his milk. "I may be an older man, but that does not mean that I'm completely blind to the world. Your parents would not employ me to take care of the house if I missed something like that, sir."

"I...I suppose not..."

"I have paid attention, not merely to the house, but yourself. You are a fine young man, Master Wyatt, but you are most definitely not very skilled at dissembling."

"...Was I that obvious?" he asked, blushing, rubbing his arm.

"I am afraid so, young master."

That only made it worse...but at the same time, almost better. If he had been that obvious, then maybe it wasn't so bad. If Burnes had already had guesses that he was...like this...with feet and older men...if it had been less of a shock than he thought...

"I will admit that I did not expect you to have taken some of my clothing, however."

"I...that was..." Wyatt shook his head, the beagle's ears pulled back and flat over the top of his head. "That really was a mistake."

"It was. You were caught."

"...What does that mean?"

"It means, young master, that you should ensure that I am the only one that finds out that you do this. Other men will not be so...understanding."

The Irish Terrier's mustache-fur twitched, and it was suddenly clear that the older male was smiling beneath that fuzz. It was like a weight off Wyatt's shoulders to see it, and he breathed a long sigh of relief.

"You're not...mad?" Wyatt asked.

"Hardly, young master. You are merely a young man with needs...and I am, apparently, the one that you've fantasized of fulfilling them."

"W-well, can you blame me?" He chuckled nervously. "You're..."

"I'm what, Master Wyatt?" Burnes asked, sipping his milk.

"...Hot. Really...really hot..."

He wanted to stop there, but it was nearly impossible. For all his teenage years and his limited adult life, he had been exposed to Burnes more than any other male. It had been a formative experience, he was sure some therapist or other would say, but it didn't matter what they wanted to call it. To him, it had been the definitive experience of what being around someone that really cared was like. The words came, and he couldn't stop them.

"You never stop caring. You're always there, always willing to listen. And you never let life get to you. It's like...like you're the strongest man I know...And you make sure that everything is taken care of. I just...I want to..."

The things that he wanted to do made a list so long that he doubted that he could ever get through them, and embarrassment finally got strong enough to make him stop talking. He turned his head to the side, rubbing the back of it once more as he realized just how close he'd come to actually exposing what he wanted.

Silence fell between them at that moment, and Wyatt worried that perhaps he had gone too far. After all, Burnes had been part of the family for nearly two decades now, and the age difference between them was such that Burnes was almost more of the generation that had sired the beagle's parents. Not just father and son there, but very nearly grandfather and son. The aged male had been part of the beagle's life for so long that it was hard to think of him in any other way than as, well, that.

The thought that he might have offended such a mainstay in his life, the possibility that he might chase Burnes off, was enough to almost push him to hyperventilation. The only thing that saved him was the older canine putting his milk to the side, crossing his arms over his lap, and saying:

"Would you like to indulge tonight, young master?"

"I - what?"

"Would you like to indulge yourself with my feet, young master?" the Irish Terrier asked. "You seem to be rather...focused on them, for all that you are interested in me as a person. Stealing my socks, and I imagine, doing far more to them than just smelling them..."

"..." His cheeks burned hot enough that he knew that he'd been made. He nodded.

"If...if you don't..."

"Master Wyatt, I would not offer if I minded. Please."

As Burnes reached down, slipping his slippers off and putting them to the side, Wyatt just stared. Those feet were...large, large as he remembered them being from when he watched the butler go from room to room. The older man often took his shoes off while he was working, something about the shoes themselves offering so little in the way of support that he often did better when he didn't bother using them. He had stared at them then, but this was the closest that he had ever gotten to them.

They were broad along the upper part, thick at the ball of the foot with a well-defined, though not entirely high arch. The heel was firm, with the skin forming eye-catching whorls and swirls down there. As the Irish Terrier extended his legs, he watched the toes, seeing them curl, seeing them fan, watching the space between them.

They were dry, he realized, dry from being in the slippers. No sweaty fantasy tonight, but the very fact that this was real -

"Ooof!"

He grunted as the older canine pushed both soles right into his lap, his blush burning right back to full strength as he felt those toes nudging slightly against his boner. And there was one hell of a boner down there, the sort that was usually reserved for late-night edging sessions thinking of a situation not dissimilar to this one. His butler smiled at him, folding his hands over his lap.

"You may begin, young master."

"I...Is there something -"

"A massage would be appropriate, young master. It would let you get used to the idea first."

There was a soft tease in the way that Burnes said it, but he agreed. That would probably be best. First time touching and all that, allow himself to get used to the idea of doing this at all. Even if his fantasies were running wild with things that he might or might not actually get to do, this was probably the best start.

He could still hardly believe that he was holding them, though. It was like he had gotten his dream fantasy without even trying. What had he done to deserve this, the beagle wondered? What god had he pleased to be allowed under such lovely soles right then and there?

He stopped questioning it as he lifted one foot up, holding it by the heel while the other pressed more firmly against his thighs. He could just imagine it sliding up further, the toes splaying against his crotch, fondling his bulge. For a moment, he was tempted to ask, but no. Burnes was already doing him a favor by allowing him to go this far. Asking for more would be more than simply crass. It would be rude, horribly rude, and he wasn't going to be that sort of person. Not here, not now.

Holding it up, he dug his thumbs into the sole, working from the heel to the toes. It was firm, obviously a little tense, and he made himself focus on doing the massage more than just the things that he wanted to do. Sure, there was the pleasure of having that foot in hand, but if he could be helpful...

Burnes is...is being so nice...I can do something for him, too...

He focused on what little he remembered from foot massage techniques in the magazines he'd been reading. Most of them had been more focused on sole-shots, overall, but there had been some bits and pieces through them that had been more practically useful. He dragged what little he remembered from them up, making little circles with his thumbs, going up along the arch, pressing outwards rather than circling firmly inwards. All the pressure had to go up, then out, like he was smoothing out some sort of dough.

Further, further, further, lifting his hands along those large soles. Bigger than his, he idly realized. Bigger, more used...

With more of a scent...

Even without sweat, he could smell a soft musk coming from them, just strong enough to coat his fingers and make him realize that he would go to bed with that scent on his hands. The idea of rubbing himself later, of enjoying that smell more directly -

Oh gods...

He was almost face to face with the toes, and the idea of just doing a helpful massage went right out of his mind as he watched those thick digits dancing right in front of his face. His nostrils flared, suckin in the scent, and he shivered hard.

"Hmmm. Good boy."

Wyatt all but jumped out of his skin as he realized that Burnes was still watching him. He opened his eyes wide, ready to apologize, but the words that came from his lips instead were -

"Thank you, sir."

The beagle froze, his eyes wider, and...and his cock harder than ever before. He had never - okay, that was a lie. In some fantasies, he had imagined things turned around, with him being the servant and Burnes being the master of the house, with him doing more things for the older male, but this...saying it out loud...

There was nothing in the way of a response for another few seconds, and he had this horrible feeling that he had just ruined it, or invited some horrible blackmail. Instead, Burnes eventually smiled, one side of his mouth going up while the other side remained confidently flat. The Irish Terrier nodded.

"That feels right for this. Yes. When it's just us, I think you should call me that. What do you think?"

"I...yes, sir."

"Good boy."

Sir and good boy. Things that should only ever go the other way had been reversed, and reversed quite handily. His boner throbbed all the harder as he realized that this was getting a hell of a lot kinkier than just a simple massage. As his fingers worked along the undersides of the other man's feet, he realized just how much he felt...right, here. Like he had just found a good place for himself, away from so many other ambitions that had been so much harder to handle.

Being a foot boy...for the butler...

God, if his parents ever heard about that...

If anyone ever heard about that...

But if Burnes was happy with him here, he was ecstatic to take the position, even if it was only for a night. He kept up the massage, trying to build up the courage to take it further. Every so often, he sniffed at the toes again, taking in that older scent, something that was a bit musky with long-absorbed lotions, a bit of foot-scent with a hint of coconut butter spread through it. A very minor sweetening, not the sickly layer of it that came with fresh stuff, just the sort of thing that stuck around after constant use over the years.

Yet...there was so much more than sniffing that he could do. And Burnes seemed more than willing to let him, if he just...

Just asked. All he had to do was ask.

"Mmmph...sir?" Wyatt almost whimpered, clearing his throat. "Sir?"

"Yes, young master?"

"May...may I lick your toes?"

"...Yes, you may."

He half-noticed that the butler had leaned back, adjusted something with his robe, but he didn't see what. In that moment, he wasn't sure that it mattered. What mattered were those toes, flicking back and forth in front of his face, begging him for attention. He all but drooled as he leaned down and licked the big toe.

"Mmmph..."

He groaned, and so did Burnes, the older male closing his eyes. Wyatt almost did the same, but he kept them open just a slit, just enough so that he could watch the toes curl and fan as he lavished them with his tongue, giving them all the attention that he had long-ago fantasized of doing. One lick after another, tickling, nudging, pushing those digits along. It was like he was finally freed to do what he had been dreaming of, and he all but attacked those toes with all the worship that he had fantasized of giving them for too long.

Lick, lap, lick, lap, dragging his tongue over them and then between them, tasting the only damp bits that could be found along the soles. One lick found a bit of sweat right there between big and second toe, and he shivered at the salty taste that combined with the rest of the flesh-tones and tastes.

He shifted to the other foot, massaging along the heel as he worked the toes, soaking them slowly, giving the digits a good little taste. Sometimes, he would lean down to pull the whole thing in his mouth, letting the toe rest on his tongue, marinate in his spit before pulling it out to see the thing shine. It was like he was polishing footwear, except that he was polishing and shining the feet of his personal idol.

His boner had never, ever been harder. Even the one time that he had managed to steal some socks that Burnes had been forced to wear for three days straight due to an extensive bit of work that needed to be done around the house couldn't match this. He was rock hard, throbbing, dripping, and he hadn't even fished his shaft from his pants yet.

He was so focused on giving those toes the attention that they deserved that he didn't realize that he wasn't the only one into it until almost too late. A soft grunt finally pulled his eyes from those slippery digits, and -

"Mmmph?!"

Wyatt pulled back, his eyes wide as he watched Burnes stroking himself. The Irish Terrier arched an eyebrow at him, slowly lifting one foot and pushing it back against the beagle's chin.

"I didn't say stop, young master."

"..."

"Keep sucking, Master Wyatt."

"Mmph...yes, sir."

He opened his mouth, and this time, the Irish Terrier was the one to push rather than just taking what he received. Wyatt shivered as he felt the toe passing between his lips, the curl that pinned his tongue in place, the soft pressure of one, then two other toes sliding into his mouth and resting on his tongue.

"Keep going...and stroke yourself while you do, young master."

"Mmph..."

He had hoped to be ordered to do something like that, but hoping to be ordered to do something and being ordered to do it were two completely different things. He gasped for breath as he fished his shaft from his pants, slowly pulling on it, dragging his hand up and down as he stared at the foot against his face. The slow pressure against his face only made it that much more intense, reminding him of how very many times he had fantasized of being in this exact position.

How...how...

It didn't matter how, he realized. All that mattered was -

"Slow down. You don't want to finish too soon."

No, no he most definitely did not. He followed the order even as he whimpered from it, feeling the sheer need building up between his legs. He almost never held back, but tonight...he could do it tonight.

He gasped as he humped his hand, trying to keep to the slow pace that his butler had set, but it was hard. So hard. The feeling of that foot on his face, the way that it was slowly pushing forward, forcing him to take the toes and bob on them, making him taste and smell and submit - it was just what he had thought of when he read the magazines. It was exactly what he had wanted, except ten times better.

And that foot near his shaft...

He couldn't help himself. The beagle's hips twitched, thrusting forward from time to time, forcing the tip of his cock against the spit-slick sole, feeling the different texture. So different from a hand. So much better than a hand. He shivered, he moaned, feeling himself oozing already, dripping.

He took a chance, slapping the head of his cock against the other man's sole. No complaint. He panted, stroking as fast as he was allowed, tapping the head of his cock against Burnes's sole again and again, his breath coming faster as he kept himself from cumming.

Through the splayed toes against his face, he could just barely make out the fact that the Irish Terrier was almost as hard and throbbing as he was, almost as horny, almost as needy. He was controlling himself better, but his butler was definitely eager.

Please, please, please...

Finally, Burnes nodded, lifting the foot that had been getting tapped and teased all that time and pressing it firmly to the head of the beagle's shaft.

"Cum, boy."

And that was all that he needed to hear. He barely had to give himself one more stroke before he was going over the edge. The beagle whimpered, thrusting his hips once, twice, three times, grinding the head of his shaft against the underside of that older sole, grinding in his pre-cum, his seed, everything that came spurting free of him. His breath caught in his throat in the process, leaving him gasping more than he expected.

The feeling of hot slime hit him next as the afterglow started to set in, and he realized what kind of mess he had made down there. Some instinct pushed him to lower his head, and without even thinking about it, he dragged his tongue along the bottom of his butler's foot.

The first taste of his own seed was bitter, salty, and he almost snapped out of his needy, horny headspace. If this hadn't been his first time, he might have actually done that. As it stood, he was so horny, so happy, so satisfied that he was almost on autopilot, dragging his tongue up and down through the mess that he had left on the older man's sole.

Each lick restored some of the natural color that the cum had obscured, and with each lick, Wyatt felt a little bit more embarrassed and a little bit more...in his right place, for lack of a better way of putting it. It was like he was slowly sinking into the space he needed to occupy, the right sort of place for someone like him. No need to be high and mighty around his butler. He could just...be here. At Burnes's feet. Where he could give the other man the sort of respect, admiration, and, yes, even adoration that he felt that the other canine deserved.

He had just finished licking that foot clean when Burnes stood up. It was a fairly sudden movement, one that he didn't quite expect. His butler looked down at him, and Wyatt looked up to find himself staring at the other male's cock. That big, throbbing thing that had been just out of sight and out of mind until that moment, was right there all of a sudden, throbbing and putting itself on display.

Wyatt couldn't look away. He couldn't even move. And so, when his butler reached down and cupped his chin, as his head was tilted so that his eyes were out of the way and his view was only of the most admired Irish Terrier, he went with it.

One.

Two.

Three.

His butler lasted longer than he had, but not by much. The three strokes were enough to send Burnes over the edge, and the heated, sticky ropes of seed shooting across the beagle's face were enough to shatter that afterglow empty-headed feeling. His attention came right back to the moment, and he had to face the shocking realization that his butler had just given him a facial, and a big one, at that.

Oh...my...

Wyatt was completely still as his butler finished cumming, unable to entirely believe what had just happened to him. He stared straight ahead as the hand under his chin came away, feeling the warmth against his cheeks, some of it running right up to the top of his head, but none of it anywhere near his eyes or lips. It was...

It was strong, he realized, his nose burning slightly from the smell. Of all the things to notice right then, the smell was the last thing that he would have figured, but of course, as a canine, it was all too strong. The scent was almost like a mark, like he had accepted some sort of position under his butler, some sort of thing that would...that he could carry with him, that he could show off, if he was actually proud of it.

He was, too. Oddly enough, he really was.

He came back to the moment as Burnes pulled a handkerchief free, using it to wipe the beagle's face clean. He blinked, slowly looking up at that aged face, his cheeks blushing once more as he realized just what he must have looked like.

"S-sorry," he muttered.

"For what, young master? For doing what you're told? For being a good boy?"

"Nnnngh..."

"You will learn, young master. You will learn." The Irish Setter patted his head gently. "Now, what would you like for breakfast in the morning? It is getting late, and we should get to bed shortly, but I would like to plan."

...Always efficient, Burnes, always efficient...

Fighting giggles at the sudden tonal shift, he couldn't help but remain on his knees. He tapped his fingers against his thighs, thinking it through as the Irish Setter got to his feet, fighting the urge to let his tail wag freely.

"Um..." Sausage was the first answer, but as he caught a glimpse of that hanging shaft in his butler's robe, he decided against it. He wasn't sure he could take further innuendo that way. "A cheese omelette, please?"

"Of course, young master."

"Mmmph...thank you."

"Hmm?"

"...Thank you, sir."

Saying that when he wasn't hard as a rock was very different to saying it when he was, but it didn't feel wrong. If anything, it felt better, more right. And it certainly put a smile on Burnes's face, which was all to the good.

"Now, young master, we should both get some rest. But first." The older male rested his hands on the chair behind him for balance as he lifted one foot. "Will you pay respects to an old man's sole one last time before he puts his slippers on?"

Wyatt didn't even need to be asked. The beagle leaned in wordlessly, kissing each toe before lowering his head to the other foot. He kissed from the smallest to the largest, and cheekily snuck in a playful lick between the biggest and second toe.

His butler smiled, patting his head gently before pulling his slippers back on. As Burnes collected his cup and made his way to the other side of the room, however, the Irish Terrier looked over his shoulder with a small smile.

"One last thing, young master."

"Y-yes, sir?"

"My nylons are still in your chambers."

"..."

"Goodnight, young master."

As his butler walked out of the room, Wyatt couldn't help but feel gobsmacked. Not only had he just gotten one of his deepest fantasies fulfilled, but he seemed to have started something that would continue for...for who knew how long, really? His butler seemed more than willing for this to be something that they kept doing, particularly with a flirty sort of thing like that, and...and...

His boner was coming back, and he sure as hell wasn't going to attend to it down here. Not when there were socks waiting for him in his room. The speed at which the beagle rushed off would have been suitable for a Saturday morning cartoon, and the groans that echoed through the house afterwards were as loud as any teen might have been when they knew they didn't need to worry about being overheard.

For the first time in his life, Wyatt jerked off completely guilt-free.

The End

Summary: Wyatt, a young beagle that has been harboring a crush on his older butler, is caught out. Fortunately for him, the butler doesn't seem to mind.

Tags: M/M, Age Difference, Irish Terrier, Beagle, Reversal, Servant On Top, Foot Fetish, Musk, Massage, Worship, Facial, Masturbating, Orgasm, Cum,