Lost bet with Brother's Girlfriend

Postby guardian741 » Mon Dec 09, 2013 9:37 am

I was visiting my brother at college for the week and he offered for me to spend a few nights in his dorm. We were going to watch the Michigan vs Michigan State game and hang out for a bit, then he was going to a study group, going on a 1-day trip with his biology class, and then would be back the next day for our last “hang out” day.

He asked if it was cool if we watched the game in Kristina’s (Kristina is his girlfriend; shes about 5’7, has some Spanish in her and has shoulder-length black hair) room. I told him that would be fine. However, about 2 minutes into the game my brother received a text from one of his group members that one of their documents didn’t save, so they were going to have to rewrite it and they asked if they’d come meet him early. He asked if it was cool that he dipped-out and I told him that was fine.

So, a few more minutes into the game Kristina started some friendly trash-talk:

“U of M is going to beat State’s ass”

“No way” I said, “State has the best defense in the conference this year, and Michigan’s been playing like garbage”

“It’ll still be enough to beat state!” she said

“Yeah… no.” I said, somewhat condescendingly.

“Wanna bet?” She said, now looking at me completely (instead of the game)

“Sure” I said, confident that State was going to win. “What do you want if you, by some miracle, win?”

“You have to rub my feet for 20 minutes!” She said as she lifted her socked foot to my face.

“Fine” I said as I pushed her foot to the side. “And if I win?”

“I’ll give you a backrub for 20 minutes”

“Works for me, gonna be the easiest backrub of my life”

“I wouldn’t be so sure…” she said

“I only bet on sure things” I told her with a grin.

“Then you won’t mind upping the wager?” she asked with raised eyebrows.

I was moderately interested, so I asked: “what more could I get”

She said, “In addition to the backrub, I’ll clean and fold all the laundry you’ve managed to accumulate” (she had seen my over-flowing suitcase back in my brother’s room, filled with all the laundry I wore over the past week)

“Ha, ok!” I gladly accepted. “And if you win?”

“Then, instead of rubbing my feet, you’ll be used as my footstool” she said.

I laughed, assuming she was joking. When I saw that her face remained serious, I asked: “wait, seriously? Why would you want that?”
She said: “because you’re so over-confident and cocky, that I think it’d be good for you to be humbled at my feet”

“Whatever,” I said “that’s pretty much not going to happen”

“Well lets just watch and see” she said as she turned back to the game. With 5 minutes left in the 1st quarter, the score was 7-7. I was still sure that State was going to whip U of M’s ass.

I drank for most of the game – enjoying my vacation – and last I remember it was 34 State, 37 U of M at the end of the 3rd quarter. Shortly after that however, the booze won against my will and I fell asleep.

After quite awhile (I now know was about 2 hours), I woke up laying on the floor in front of the couch on my stomach. I had a stale taste in my mouth that I assumed was from the alcohol. I tried to get up, but my hands were stuck behind me – taped together. As I gained awareness I realized my legs (ankles, knees and thighs) were also duct-taped together. My taped hands were secured to my lower back by tape that ran around my body and hands. I tried to speak, when I only “mmmphed” I noticed the duct tape over my mouth (actually, more specifically, wrapped around my head). I felt a weight on the middle of my back. Then I felt the weight shift. I turned my head toward the couch and saw Kristina sitting on it, with her bare feet propped up on my back!

I looked at her a mmphed loudly, and struggled my bound body against the tape, trying to get free. I mmmphed several short, loud, angry mmphs. She looked down at me and smiled.

“Well, morning sleepy head”

I just mmmphed into the tape, trying to say something along the lines of “what the hell”.

She laughed a little at my futile attempts to show my anger, and began explaining:

“Well, you had fallen asleep and didn’t see the end of the game. U of M won, 51-41, isn’t that great!”
I continued my angry mmphs.

“Anyway, I figured you’d be a sore loser and wouldn’t hold-up your end of the bet, so I taped you up a little (we clearly had different definitions of “little”) so that you couldn’t escape! But I didn’t want you waking up and freaking out, being loud, and getting me in trouble with our RA, so I taped my socks in your mouth to keep you quiet”

That was the bitter taste in my mouth! It made sense now – now that I was fully awake – I could feel the material in my mouth. That also meant, however, that I was now fully aware of the bitter taste in my mouth. It was pretty gross, and the thought of having this snotty girl’s dirty socks in my mouth just pissed me off. I let out a loud groan.

“Oh, relax” she said with a giggle. “I’ll take them out of your mouth a little bit later. Now let me watch my show” She then turned her attention toward the show (which ended up being one of the Harry Potter movies), and turned up the volume a little to drown out my angry mmmphs.

I struggled against the tape quite a bit, but it all held quite well (she must have used a lot). I tried to stretch my mouth out to escape the tape (hoping to spit out the disgusting socks), but too much of my face was covered – she had wrapped it around my head so many times so as to cover my lips, the top of my lips (right under my nose) and my chin. (Talking to her later she said she had wrapped it around close to 8 times). I tried spitting the sock against the tape – clearly desperate now – but, obviously, had to luck. This chick’s sweaty socks were stuck in my mouth until she wanted them out. I goaned.
After 20 minutes of struggling – and failure – I gave up and just laid there and tried not to think about the flavor in my mouth or how long she had been wearing the socks before they were taped in my poor mouth.

For the next hour and a half (the remainder of the movie), I laid still as a “good footstool” (as she put it) while Kristina sat on the couch were her bare feet propped on my back. Once or twice she would nibble on chips, or drink from her pop, just lounging around like have a human footstool was completely normal. She would occasionally mock me by saying “you’re so comfy! I wish I could keep you forever”, or “so how good is State again?”. She rubbed her feet over my bound hands saying “ya know, you could still rub them if you want” I tried to move my hands away, but between being taped together and then being taped to my back, I couldn’t move them. She just rubbed her feet over my hands, picked at my fingers with her toes, asking how soft her feet felt, etc.

When the movie was over, I assumed she was going to get off the couch and un-tape me. But she began flipping through channels. With the nasty flavor of the sock still reminding me just how unpleasant my situation is, I began mmmphing loudly.

She looked at me like she was confused and asked, “what’s your problem?”

What you mean besides being tied up on the floor, with a pair of dirty socks taped in my mouth and being used as a footstool by my brother’s girlfriend? Oh, not much!

I squirmed and mmphed as loudly as I could: “untie me!”

She rubbed her feet on my back and my hands again as she asked “What, is being my footstool really that bad?”

I mmmphed a loud “yes!”

“You don’t like my feet?” she asked – pretending I hurt her feelings.

I screamed a “NO” into my sock gag and shook my head, to make sure I was clear.

“Well, ok then” she said as she removed her feet from my back and got off the couch. She got on her knees in front of me and reached across my back to my rib cage (closest to the couch). I was relieved that I was finally (after nearly 2.5 hours!) going to be untied.

But I was surprised when she pulled, forcing my whole body to roll towards her. Now that I was laying on my back (and my taped hands) I mmpmhed a “what are you doing at her”.

She said nothing – her face still serious – and pushed my body, sliding it over the floor, so that I was again plush against the couch. Then she got back on the couch and rested her feet on my stomach.

I was instantly pissed and started shouting and struggling again (once again, failing to make any real progress). She looked down at me and said, with a grin: “If you hate my feet so much, I think I should get you better acquainted! Besides, how often do I get the chance to use someone as a footstool!
She laughed a little.

“Well,” she continued, “you’ve already gotten to know my socks. How do those taste by the way?” she asked, chuckling a little bit afterwards.

To answer her question, the answer was “still incredibly stale and bitter”, but obviously came out as a bunch of mmmphing.

“I assume, good” she said, “I wore those for my jog this morning and meant to change, but never got around to it. It was only a 30 minute jog though since I was cramped for time, so you should be grateful!”

Knowing that they’ve been pressed against her feet since this morning just made the socks seem that much more disgusting. But at this point I was tired from all my struggling, and moving around too much hurt my hands, so I just laid still and groaned a loud, long groan. Which made her laugh.
During her taunting, Kristina apparently found something she wanted to watch because the channels stopped changing on the tv and she put the remote down. As she was watching, though, I saw her develop a grin. Then she looked down at me and grinned a little bigger, then she looked back at the TV. She adjusted herself on the couch a little bit. All of the sudden I see her upper-legs move and before I could process what was happening her feet were on my face! Her right foot was resting over my eyes, her left foot was pressed over my taped mouth.

I mmphed as loudly as I could, but with her foot now blocking any sound that made it through the socks and the tape, it really couldn’t be heard; especially over the TV. The worst part of this (besides being humiliated) was that the foot that was over my mouth was very close to my nose. In fact, my nose brushed against the arch of her foot. As a result, the smell from her nasty feet (which I now know went for a jog this morning and were never cleaned!) drifted into my nose. With my mouth gagged, I was forced to inhale her foot stench. I groaned and struggled to move my head. But I’m assuming she predicted my resistance, because she was pressing on my head with both feet, forcing my head to stay in its straight-up position.

As I inhaled breath after breath of her smelly feet, I grew hopeless in terms of my escape. After only a few minutes, I just laid – motionless – while Kristina rested her feet on my face, seemingly oblivious to the foot odor I was being forced to endure.

But it turns out, she wasn’t oblivious:

“How do those smell?” She asked with a big grin, now looking down at me – after she moved her right foot to my forehead instead of my eyes.
I mmphed a little bit, but her foot blocked most of the sound.

“Like flowers?” she asked. Then laughed again. “I noticed they stink when I took off my socks to gag you, and I thought about letting you out of the bet because this would be cruel and unusual. But then I remember how much of an arrogant prick you were, and decided that this would help humble you!”

“So, which do you like better?” she asked, “The taste of my yummy jogging socks, or the sweet, sweet smell of my pretty feet?” Then she started laughing.

Obviously, I couldn’t answer her, but I had managed to get over the worst of her nasty socks. The stale taste still lingered in my mouth, but they had been in my mouth so long now that they were no longer as “fresh” as they were before. Her feet, on the other hand, were still pretty ripe (an 8 out of 10, if you will), and having them that close to my nose left nothing to the imagination – they reeked!

“Now just lay there like a good footstool” she said as she turned her attention back to the TV.

She had lightened the pressure on my face so that I could turn it towards the TV, which helped because her foot was no longer right under my nose, but she still rested her feet on the side of my face, with her toes and the top of the ball of her foot hovering over my face.

For the next 30 minutes or so, I just laid on the floor with Kristina’s feet resting on my face. The smell still made it to my nose, but it wasn’t nearly as concentrated as when they were right under my nose. Occasionally she would shift her foot a little bit and grip my nose with her toes – bringing the scent back to full strength, then laugh at my muffled complaints.

After those 30 minutes she got up (much to my relief – a little fresh air!) and got a pair of scissors. Then she sat back down and started talking to me in a sweet tone

“Now I’m going to cut away your tape gag so that you can spit out those dirty socks. But you should know that I haven’t done laundry yet either, and I have some socks that would probably be worse – socks from my 2 and 3-hour trips to the gym that have been sitting in my laundry basket for a week. And I swear to God that if you start being loud, I’m going to shove those in my mouth, and you won’t be untied until every single one of my socks has been mouth-laundered by you. Got it?”

I nodded yes, and told myself not to make a peep. I couldn’t imagine what a worse sock would taste like.

She careful wedged the scissors between my cheek and the tape and cut straight down. She unwrapped the giant piece of tape from my head and I gratefully spit out the nasty socks. Ironically, they were white ankle socks with the U of M logo on the ankle – she must have been excited for the game.

“Bleh, thank you!” I said, while trying to spit some of the stale taste out of my mouth. “I get it, I was kinda arrogant, I’m sorry. Will you let me go now?”

She just looked at me a laughed a little while she sat back down on the couch. “If it makes you feel better” she said “I’m almost ready to let you go”

“What?” I said, mildly irritated. “Come ON! I would say I”ve definitely upheld my end of th – mph!”

“shhh” she said, as she shoved the heel of her left foot into my mouth, effective filling my mouth.

“mmph!” I should against her foot, as a familiar stale taste flooded my mouth. Though, it was much saltier this time.

“I just think it’ll be beneficial to help you remember who’s in charge between the two of us. Here’s a hint: the one in charge has her heel in the other person’s mouth” She giggled at her own lame joke.

After only a minute of two (of me thrashing around, and trying to talk around the heel in my mouth) she moved her foot over my mouth with the arch over my lips. I had to endure her foot odor right under my nose again, but my taste buds were relieved.

“I want you to lick my feet before I let you go”

My heart sank. I mmphed an “are you kidding me?” into her bare foot.

“Do it,” Kristina said “or this is how your brother is going to find you when he gets back tomorrow”

I definitely did not want that, so begrudgingly I stuck out my tongue and quickly darted it across the arch of her foot, the salty taste overwhelming my taste buds.

I moved my head quickly to the side so I could speak, “there, I licked ‘em”

“No…” she said, “I want slow licks, that way you can enjoy the wonderful flavor of a woman’s feet”

She used her feet to move my head back to its pointing-up position and rested her foot over my mouth again, moving her foot up and down briefly over my mouth in a taunting way.

I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the suffering I was about to endure, and pushed my tongue against her nasty foot, moving it slowly from the bottom of the arch to the mid-point of the ball of her foot. The salty taste flooding my mouth and made my face crinkle-up like I had sucked on a lemon. I braced myself again and stuck my tongue against her foot again and licked, this 2nd time being just as disgusting as the 1st.

I wondered just how I had gotten here; tied up, being forced to lick this 20-year old woman’s feet, while she rests them on my face and watches TV. I braced myself for a 3rd lick, but couldn’t bring myself to do it. I moved my head and told her,

“this is fucking disgusting, I already licked it plenty, you made your point. Now you’re just being a bitch”

She looked down at me with raised eyebrows – in hindsight I probably should not have called her a bitch – and said “I have to do EVERYTHING myself”.
Then she moved to the center of the couch and angled herself pointing towards my head. She raised her foot up and pointed her toes, and before I could shout for help (which probably wouldn’t have done any good anyway) she shoved her foot into my mouth – all of her toes and most of the ball of her foot. Once again, the salty/stale taste flooded my mouth. But this time, it didn’t go away after a few seconds like it did when I was licking her foot, it stayed in my mouth because her foot was in my mouth! Disgusted, I tried to move my head, but she was pushing her foot in hard enough (and at the right angle) that it forced my head to the floor.

That’s how I stayed for the next 15 minutes. Tied up on the floor, with her foot shoved into my mouth. Kristina ultimately ignored me aside from wiggling her toes in my mouth occasionally and then giggling afterwards. Every time I tried to mmph a complaint, or groan, or any kind of noise, she would say (louder than my mmmphs) “yeah, I know it tastes so good!”

After that she finally took her foot out of my mouth, and I panted while pleading with my eyes.

“Good news is,” Kristina said, “I’m almost ready to untie you, I just have one more thing I want to do. Oh, and I don’t need you complaining while I do it” and with that she put a single long piece of tape over my mouth. I probably could have stretched my mouth around it, but didn’t dare test her – for fear of what “more permanent” solution she’d have.

Kristina grabbed a large blanket and laid it out on the floor, she then rolled me onto one side of it and began rolling me, holding the blanket up to me as she rolled me. After 3 or 4 roles, the blanked had been wrapped around me almost 3 times. She used a few pieces of tape to hold the ending flap against the rest of the blanket. I assumed she was done, but she then got a roll of wrapping paper (Christmas was about a month or so away) and unrolled a large sheet onto the floor. She then repeated the process, rolling me in the wrapping paper, then taping up the loose side. She did this twice more (using almost 2 rolls of wrapping paper! – they don’t give you much), then got a silver bow and stuck it on my back. I was laying on my stomach at this point.
Kristina untapped my mouth and I was going to ask what on earth she was doing, but she just sush’d me. She sat down in front of me and put her feet on the floor, under my face. Leading with her toes, she lifted the top of her foot up (rocking on the heel) and shoved her toes in my mouth – she ignored my muffled complaints – then when a fair amount of her foot was shoved in, she lifted her foot up, forcing my head back so that , instead of looking at the floor, I was looking straight at her. It was a stretch on my neck to have my head back like that, but if I tried to move it forward, it would just result in me getting more of her foot rammed into my mouth.

She then raised her other foot (she was leaning against the wall) and brought it up to my face so that her arch was resting on my cheek, and her toes covered my nose – the scent assaulting me once again. I groaned to which she replied “I know it, you love the smell. Pretend like you don’t for a minute.”
I became horrified when I saw her lift her iPhone and point it at me. I struggled against my bonds, but between being taped up, then wrapped, I couldn’t move at all, and her foot shoved it my mouth kept my head exactly where it was – facing the camera. She then began talking – clearly filming a video.
“Look what Santa brought me for Christmas!” she said with a sweet, child-like voice, then giggled. “A personal foot-care attendant!” My groan fit in perfectly. “He is pretty cool. He smells my feet until all the stink is gone,” she said as she wiggled her toes over my nose. He tone sounded like she was describing some new product or toy, “he washes my feet, even if I don’t have time to shower, isn’t that right?” she moved her foot in my mouth, forcing my head up and down – a nod. “And,” she finished, “he makes for a comfortable footstool! Thanks Santa!”

Then the video was over. She took her feet off of my face, allowing my head to drop comfortably back down. Then she pushed me over, back onto my back, and replaced her feet over my face. One over my mouth/nose, one over my eyes. She began rubbing them back and forth saying,
“Now, I wouldn’t go around telling people that I’m some sicko that did this to you, otherwise…” I heard her tap her iPhone a few times, “this video is going to be Youtube’s and Facebook’s new #1 video!” she laughed. I groaned.

“Now do you really think my feet stink?” Kristina as innocently?

I replied “yemph, they doomph, why don’mmm you showmmmp er?” trying to convey that “yes they did”, but constantly being interrupted by the feet being rubbed over my face.

She just laughed and pushed me up against the couch. She ran to her side of the dorm, and came back smiling.

“what?” I asked, now just tired of tonight and overly anxious for it to be over.

She wrapped a scarf around my head, over my eyes, effectively blindfolding me.

She squeezed my lips to make a pucker-face, “is someone getting cranky?” she asked in a mock-baby tone.

I began to answer, but before I could actually get a noise out, fabric was being stuffed into my mouth, then duct tape being wrapped (only3 times!) around my mouth and head. By the overwhelming bitterness in my mouth, I had a pretty good guess as to what was stuffed into my mouth – filling my cheeks to make me feel like a chipmunk.

I heard Kristina laugh, but I still heard her moving around. I mmmphed angry into my (very effective) gag as my mouth began to fill with the stale, musty taste. I groaned.

I head tape being ripped off the roll, but didn’t feel anything. A few seconds later, I feel Kristina grab the back of my head and push it down to the ground, but the ground didn’t feel the same, I felt something being pressed into my face, instantly I was overwhelmed by a musty smell. She then began to wrap the duct tape around my head.

Still unable to see, I heard Kristina sit back on the couch and felt her prop her feet onto my back. Laughing about “how much she loves her new present”.

She moved both feet to my face, resting both of them on the side of my face, pushing the other side of my face to the floor. I couldn’t move my hands, my body, my legs, or my face. I was completely under her control. I groaned into my gag.

“Another rule you’ll want to learn”, Kristina said, “was that you never want to call me a bitch.”

“But” she said, “to show there’s no hard feelings, I thought we could play a game for the last 2 hours you’re tied up”

2 Hours?!?! Are you kidding me? I mmphed angrily into my gag, but quickly stopped when I realized my tongue was exploring new areas of the fabric in my mouth that came with a powerful reminder of the full strength of the taste. The smell trapped to my nose was making me light-headed as well.

“After 2 hours of laying here”, she continued, as if I wasn’t suffering under her feet, “I’ll let you guess how many hours I worked out in those socks that are in your mouth, and” I only groaned “I’ll let you guess how many years I’ve had that shoe that’s taped over your nose.

If I had more energy, I would have been pissed. I was taped-up, and wrapped-up, gagged with dirty socks that are God-knows how old, being forced to smell an old shoe of hers (that I’m assuming she works out in) all while she rests her bare feet on my face. I struggled but to no avail. I mmmphed loudly, but that only forced me to catch my breath – which meant a big inhale of her nasty shoe, which almost made me gag.

“If you guess right,” she said “I promise not to shove my foot in your mouth anymore before I untie you.” She laughed, then continued, “but if you guess WRONG, then you’re definitely going to be giving my feet a tongue-bath, and you’ll probably get to suck on some more of my socks too! Lucky you!” Then she laughed hysterically and turned up the TV while I mmmphed and squirmed under her.

“Who’s the bitch now?” she added, then rubbed my face a little with her feet

As the odor from the shoe continued to pierce my nose, I knew this would be the last bet I ever make.


After only an hour she did give me the chance to guess at her shoe/sock times. I actually got her shoe right (3 years), but I guessed that she worked out in those socks for 2 hours, she said It was three. I don’t think she actually knew, I just think she wanted me to be wrong.

She ended up making me lick both of her feet for 10 minutes each. As for her dirty socks, she wanted to see how many she could cram in my mouth – they were all ankle and “heel-socks” (the kind that cut off at the lower heel), so she managed to fit like 4 in, with the 5th one still hanging out of my mouth. She placed a long strip of tape over my mouth to keep them in. Then she rubbed her feet around on my face for 5 minutes taunting me with things like:

“How do those yummy socks taste?” and “do you still think my feet stink? Maybe you should spend more time getting used to them!”

After that, she let me go only after pressing each foot to my face demanding I tell her “they smell like flowers” when she asked.

Re: Lost bet with Brother's Girlfriend

Postby zacekjakub » Tue Dec 10, 2013 3:46 am

Good one, continue please!

Re: Lost bet with Brother's Girlfriend

Postby NemesisPrime » Tue Dec 10, 2013 10:26 am

Haha, I do love a good sock gag and a smelly sneaker taped to the face? Even better!
Everyone speaks in multiple languages...But gag talk is universal and a sock in your mouth is the perfect translator!

Re: Lost bet with Brother's Girlfriend

Postby fuegoski » Sun Mar 23, 2014 8:23 am

Nice story, More please it shouldnt end

Re: Lost bet with Brother's Girlfriend

Postby Ryguy98 » Sun Mar 23, 2014 5:53 pm

I agree with the previous statement