Lev the Landlord

Part 1

Mostly my landlord, Lev, didn't pay me too much attention unless he wanted something, but there were still the evenings he came home drunk and eager to chat.

So one day in August, late at night, I was back in the kitchen listening to Lev.

This time it was about some guy at the gym who’d dropped a weight on his foot. Then, somehow, we were onto Chelsea, a Premier League team that Lev reserved for particular hatred. After that it was about some guy called Sanjay's poor performance in the pub team.

The one-sided discussions came with Lev's drunken, cheerful abuse of me, like a teenage boy messing with his younger brother. That first day it had been smelling his ripe pits. This time, he'd started by trapping my head under his arm as soon as I’d come into the kitchen. Then he’d pushed me to the floor, put his foot on my back. I stayed there.

Lev looked down at me, disappointed, “You need try to ge’ up.”

I struggled to my knees. With almost no effort on his part, he batted me back down.  He gave himself a point, “One.” I tried to get up again. A firm slap on my back, “Two.” There wasn’t much question who was going to win this game. He carried on talking as he played with me.

“Is’ jus’ Sanj, Sanjay he’s ok but sometimes he’s shit,” Lev said profoundly.

I tried again to get up.

“Three”

When we were up to five, he announced, "Going fo' a piss." I looked up at him from the floor.

"Come on, I'm talking to you." I realised he thought his conversation was too important to be interrupted by a toilet break. I risked trying to get up and he let me.

He got me by the ear, dragged me with him to the bathroom. He stood me at the side of the toilet and undid his fly. By now we were back onto Chelsea.

“Like I mean, Sam you proly better keeper than tha’ French cunt…”

Fumbling, it took him a while to get his dick out. When he did I didn’t try not to stare. I'd seen flashes of it plenty of times through his boxers and now I could look at it properly. It was limp, obviously, but was soon visibly pulsing with a heavy stream of piss. Mostly my impression was of something heavy - it was hooded, thick and more veiny than any dick I'd ever seen before. I thought about how Lev had let me taste his cum. How I knew the strong scent of his ball sweat from the underpants that he let me wash for him.

"Lampar’ and then thi’ other guy, the new one, you know ... "

Jesus, he was still talking.  

He glanced over to me, frowned. "Are you listening?"

As Lev turned to look at me he did the drunken thing of turning his whole body with his head,  including his heavy, hosing dick. An arc of piss showered across my crotch and down the leg of my jeans. He grinned, “Didn’ wan’ do that.”

But having done it by accident, Lev apparently now decided it was a good idea. Instead of turning back to the toilet, he stood there and happily emptied the rest of his bladder onto my lower half. Several seconds more of a strong stream, and then a thorough shaking of the drips onto me.

When he’d finished, I stood there, drenched from the waist down. Lev looked at me drunkenly like he was kind of proud of the mess he’d made. And the warmth of his piss around my dick and balls and even the smell of it was sort of nice, knowing it had come out of Lev. I looked up at him, not sure what to do next.

He shrugged, reached into his crotch to scratch his balls and then put his dick away.

“Guess ‘s time for bed,” he said.

I grabbed a towel and patted down the outside of my trousers to stop them dripping. A wide pool of steaming piss gathered on the bathroom floor underneath where I’d been standing.

He pulled me down the corridor to my bedroom and shoved me into my room. For Lev’s convenience when he didn’t want me around, the key to my room was now always on the outside of the door. I heard it click on as he locked me in.

I dried myself off as best I could with the one small towel I had in the bedroom and got into bed. The smell of Lev’s piss on my body stayed with me through the night. Like most things to do with Lev I was half grossed out, half turned on.

Part 2

The atmosphere the next morning couldn't have been more different.

Predictably hungover, scowling and not yet dressed – just in his boxers - Lev let me out of my room about 9:30 the following morning.

I headed to the bathroom. But Lev followed me.

He pointed at the pool of his urine on the floor, glared at me.

 “You did this.”

“You fucking walked in on me when I was pissing. Trying to see my dick.”

I replied, “Ermm that’s not how it happened, Lev. I’ll get you a mop.”

“No man, you made me spill it, your job to clean it.”

I was just out of bed, and I was getting a bit fed up of this stuff. I laughed, “Lev it’s your mess, just sort it out.”

But I should have known better. He was hungover, in no more of a mood to discuss it then I was.

He swore at me in his own language, then stepped forward, trapping me with his wide body against the wall, between the shower and the toilet. His fists were clenched.

“Get on the floor.”

He put his hand on my shoulder, pushing me down slightly. He didn’t force me but there was a threat in his voice, in the way he was standing, that I’d never dealt with before.  Even the slight animal smell of him – he hadn’t showered for a couple of days – was kind of intimidating.

I got down onto my knees. He gave me another push, so I was on all fours like I had been in the kitchen last night.  But he wasn’t playing this time.

I knew where I was headed.  The pool of his left over, smelly piss.

“Lick it and then you clean it up,” he said.

He stepped back to watch me.

From the floor, I glanced up at him towering over me, his legs wide, muscular arms crossed, the thick mat of hair across his bulging pecs, stomach and thighs. There was no question: he was the man, I was his sub or slave or bitch or whatever.  And so, as much as I hated the idea, I did what I was told. I WANTED to do what I was told.

I bent down, stuck my tongue out, lapped at the pool of foul liquid, felt it cold and bitter in my mouth. It was hard to swallow.  This wasn’t gross-hot like smelling his pits. This was just gross.  I was crying. Still, I didn’t stop.

Lev watched me lick up his piss,  watched me gag a couple of times on the awful taste. He was squeezing his dick a bit through his underpants as he looked at me. Then he stepped forward, put his bare foot onto the back of my head and  pushed me down so my face was against the floor, soaked in the cold liquid. Then he let me go, walked, off.  I heard the living room door slam.

When he’d gone I stayed on the floor a few moments, my head down, breathing deeply. Lev’s urine was dripping off my face, the taste still strong in my mouth. I really felt like I hated him. Why did he have to treat me like this, after all the stuff I did for him?

I was angry with myself as well as Lev. What the fuck was I doing in this house? Six months ago I was living in a nice flat in London with a clean, cute boyfriend. Now I was in this little house, willingly licking up this smelly, stupid bastard’s cold piss, rimming his dirty mates for a joke. I didn’t understand what had gone wrong.

Then I stood up, turned to the sink, washed and dried my face. I went to the kitchen to get the mop to clean the floor, like Lev wanted.

Part 3

Once the bathroom was clean and I’d had a shower, I sat in my room, tried to read, distract myself with youtube. But I could only think about what had happened. At first I just thought about how much of a dick Lev was. I hated him. He didn’t deserve any of my time. I should move out.

But after a couple of hours I realised that wasn’t right. I hadn’t deserved the way he’d treated me, but the whole thing was a bit my fault. It wouldn’t have killed me to clean up his mess when he first asked me. I liked doing stuff for him. And now he was angry with me.

Lev had stayed shut in the living room all morning since our fight. Through the glass door I could see he was on his playstation. I definitely wanted to go in, make it up with him, make him like me again. The problem was I wasn’t really allowed in the living room, it was his room.

 I decided to risk it. I found some bacon in the freezer, defrosted it and made him a bacon sandwich for lunch.

I pushed open the door gently, coughing as I went in. He smelt the sandwich, turned round, “It’s ok you can come in.”

He could see I’d been crying and I think he felt a bit bad for the way he’d treated me. Lev was a selfish pig, but he wasn’t particularly cruel. He smiled at me a bit, obviously feeling the need to clear the air.

He took the sandwich off me and had a big bite. “Thanks,” he said, chewing and smiling at the same time. For weeks, he hadn’t thanked me for anything I’d done for him. I guess this was as close as I was going to get to an apology.

He carried on being nice.

“Sit down,” he said.

There was nowhere to sit really. A dusty sofa at the back of the room was piled up with his computer and gaming crap. Otherwise it was just his big armchair.

I sat on the floor next to his feet leaning against his chair.

“Watch this.”

He flipped his PS4 back on, grabbed the handset and proceeded to demonstrate some complex gaming move he’d spent weeks perfecting.

He talked me through it excitedly, “And then is like this… ..he moves over there.. ..the GT’s the best choice but expensive.. need to build up to that… then right, then left…  I worked it out, took hours.. that’s a trap, you can’t fall into it…..”

I wasn’t really required to say anything which was great. I just enjoyed sitting next to his muscular legs, listening to him. Eventually, as he got more into the game and stopped talking, my eyes started to close. I let my back slide down the chair, curled up on the floor and closed my eyes, like a dog dozing at his feet.

When I woke up he’d dropped the controller, was dozing too. He’d thrust his feet out so they were now right by my face.

 I looked up.  I edged my face as close as possible to his toes. I breathed in the scent of his feet – though he hadn’t showered recently he’d been barefoot all day so the smell wasn’t too bad.  Looking up from floor level, I tracked with my eyes the wiry hair that dusted his toes, ran  along the top of his feet and then thickly coated his legs. I looked up to where his broad thighs disappeared into his boxers, the outline of his dick.

Tasting his foot was too good an opportunity to miss. The sole of his left foot, directly next to my face, was more or less clean. I knew I might as well risk it. The worst he could do was hit me and I was now so horny even the idea of that kind of turned me on.

I tentatively ran my tongue in a small circle round the rough skin on the ball of his foot.

 Lev snored a bit, but didn’t move.

Reassured, I went to the next step. I closed my mouth around the middle two of his thick toes. I sucked on them and then eased my tongue into the space between them. He moaned slightly in his sleep.

His foot didn’t taste good, but it tasted of him.

Growing in confidence, I focused on sucking each of his toes in turn, running my tongue over the nails, the rough skin underneath.

Out of nowhere, Lev’s right foot was across the top of my neck pressing me down. It was just like it had been that morning when he’d pushed me down into his piss. My first reaction was fear: I suddenly didn’t feel so good about the idea of him hitting me. But a second later I realised what he was doing. He wasn’t trying to stop me licking his foot but forcing me to carry on.

My dick twitched. I opened my mouth wide, taking three of his hairy toes into my mouth together, licking and probing between them, sucking enthusiastically.

Click. From my position on the floor, my mouth full of Lev’s toes, I heard that the quiet, repetitive music of the  playstation on pause had stopped. It was replaced by the sound of a woman squealing. My head was pinned down, but I knew the TV screen was now showing a girl getting  ass-fucked. He must be wanking. I licked and sucked at his toes as hard as I could, determined to prove myself.

He took his left foot out of my mouth and pulled the right foot off my neck and moved it down so I could have a go at that one instead. In the seconds with my head free I strained to look up from the floor, to see his hard on. But he was prepared for that. He stamped his left foot down, pinning my head flat against the floor again.

He pushed the right foot into my mouth. There was more dirt between his toes on this foot. But I was starting to enjoy the taste. More, I was enjoying the shivers through his foot when I got it right, ticking and arousing him with my tongue.

The woman on the screen was moaning hard. Before long I could feel, through his foot, his body start to tense as he built up to cum.

 I tried to time it right,  licking across his sole and then moving to  sucking hard on his big toe as he got closer to the edge.

His whole foot arched and stiffened as he grunted and came. I could feel the spasms through his body as he shot at least four loads.  As he did, I stayed frozen in position, my tongue just flicking across the ball of his big toe. Then, as I felt him start to relax a bit, I slowly let his toe out of my mouth and began gentle kisses on the rough skin on his sole.

I got to stay doing that for only ten seconds. Then I was grabbed by the hair and pulled roughly upright onto my knees.

“Take your shirt off.” Not knowing why, I pulled my t-shirt off and handed it to him. He was still only wearing boxers; he used my shirt to wipe the thick strands of cum off his hairy belly and chest.

When he was clean he tossed it back to me.

“Now fuck off.”

And that was the only thanks I got.

Still, I left the room with a feeling of triumph, clutching my shirt. I’d sort of made him cum, I’d got to lick and suck at least one part of his body. Even though today he’d treated me more roughly than he ever had before, I was starting to think that maybe being Lev’s slave was pretty good.