For years, ever since they stepped into the crowded halls of their suburban high school as freshmen, Elliot had been captivated by Kratos. Now a junior, Elliot’s fixation had only grown stronger. Kratos, the six-foot-tall basketball captain, was a force on and off the court, his chiseled frame and commanding presence making him the school’s undisputed star. His dark eyes and confident swagger drew every gaze, but for Elliot, it was Kratos’s sneakers that held an almost hypnotic power. Kratos had a reputation for sporting iconic Air Jordans in a commanding size 12, each pair a statement of his dominance, rotating through legendary designs that turned heads in the hallways. To Elliot, those sneakers were more than footwear; they were an extension of Kratos, symbols of his untouchable aura, worthy of worship.
Elliot’s admiration had deepened into an obsession over the years, but fear kept him silent. What would Kratos, the golden jock, think if he knew Elliot dreamed of kneeling before him, of serving as his slave? The thought of being called a freak haunted Elliot, so he kept his desires hidden, stealing glances at Kratos’s size 12 sneakers from the back of every shared class.
One humid afternoon, in a stuffy history classroom, Kratos slouched in his seat, baggy blue jeans pooling around his ankles, his Air Jordan 4 Breds planted on the floor. The premium black nubuck uppers, sleek and unyielding, caught the fluorescent light, accented by cement grey on the midsole and fiery red Jumpman logos on the tongue. The Nike Air branding on the heel screamed legacy, while the pre-distressed rubber outsole, with its herringbone traction pattern, radiated dominance in their imposing size 12. Exhausted from last night’s basketball game, Kratos dozed, his head on the desk, as the teacher droned on about the Civil War. Elliot, seated next to him, couldn’t focus. His eyes traced the creases in the black nubuck, the faint scuff on the outsole that only enhanced the shoes’ rugged allure. His pulse quickened, his mind consumed with the need to get closer, to touch, to taste.
Seizing the moment, Elliot “accidentally” knocked his pen off his desk, letting it roll toward Kratos’s feet. With a quick glance to ensure no one noticed—the class was either half-asleep or scribbling notes—he slid to the floor, crawling under the guise of searching for his pen. His hands trembled as he neared the size 12 Jordan 4 Breds. The scent hit him first: rich nubuck, faint rubber, and the musky trace of Kratos’s presence. Heart pounding, Elliot leaned in, his lips grazing the toe of the sneaker in a fleeting kiss. He inhaled deeply, savoring the intoxicating blend, the aura of the man who’d dominated his thoughts for years. The stolen moment sent a thrill through him, and he scrambled back to his seat, clutching his pen, praying no one saw.
The bell rang, jarring Kratos awake. As the class shuffled out, their chatter fading down the hall, Elliot hesitated, torn between leaving and staying. Being alone with Kratos was tempting, but lingering might seem suspicious. As he stood to go, Kratos’s voice cut through: “Stay.”
Elliot froze, his mind racing. Did Kratos know? His stomach churned as he faced the basketball star, who leaned back in his chair, one eyebrow raised, those size 12 Jordan 4 Breds crossed at the ankles.
“What did you just do while I was sleeping?” Kratos asked, his voice low and commanding.
Elliot’s mouth went dry. “I-I dropped my pen,” he stammered, holding it up. “Just… looking for it.”
Kratos’s lips curled into a smirk. “Cut the bullshit, Elliot. I saw you. Kissing and sniffing my J4s. So, what’s the real deal?”
Elliot’s face burned, his heart hammering. There was no escape. The truth poured out in a nervous rush. “I’ve been watching you since freshman year. Your sneakers, your Jordans… they’re perfect. You’re perfect. I didn’t want to freak you out, but I… I want to serve you. To worship you. I’d do anything for you, Kratos.”
Silence hung heavy. Elliot braced for rejection, but Kratos’s smirk darkened, predatory. “Get on the floor. Now.”
Elliot’s breath caught, his body rooted. Before he could move, Kratos swung his legs forward, the sole of one size 12 Jordan 4 connecting with Elliot’s chest in a swift kick. Elliot collapsed to his knees. Kratos stood, towering over him, and pressed the rubber sole of his sneaker against Elliot’s cheek, the sole cool and unyielding. “You should’ve known I’d enjoy this,” Kratos said, his voice dripping with authority. “You want to worship me? Prove it. Lick the soles clean.”
Kratos sat back, lifting one size 12 foot onto the desk, the herringbone outsole of the Jordan 4 Bred staring Elliot down. The red and grey accents gleamed, the black nubuck radiating power. Elliot’s hands shook as he reached for the sneaker, fingers grazing the textured nubuck upper. He brought it to his lips, his tongue tracing the textured rubber sole, tasting the faint grit of the court and Kratos’s dominance. He worked meticulously, cleaning every inch of the expansive sole, years of longing poured into each lick.
Kratos leaned back, watching with amusement and control. “From now on, you’re mine,” he growled. “My slave. You’ll do whatever I say, starting with keeping these J4s spotless.”
Elliot nodded, his heart swelling with fear and fulfillment. Kneeling there, serving the king he’d worshipped since freshman year, he knew he’d found his place—at the feet of Kratos, beneath the iconic size 12 Air Jordan 4 Breds.
Follow Master Kratos
Instagram: MasterKratos28
BlueSky: MasterKratos28
X: MasterKratos28
