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My roommate in college, Jason, was a big muscular dude.
Dark brown hair, piercing brown eyes, furry chest and legs, this guy was hot. He was a nice guy and we became friends pretty fast but at the time I wasn't out and I was pretty sure he was straight. He also had perfect size 13 feet which were either bare or in socks when we hung out and I had to keep my glances pretty secretive. We shared a small dorm room and our beds were pretty close to each other. I usually slept with my head down by his feet in the hopes of catching sight of them but he pretty much never pulled them out of his blanket. I always figured my desire for him would go unfulfilled.
One day, however, we were hanging out, having a couple of beers and talking about football, specifically the game we had both missed that day. We had yet to find out the score and I'd said I figured the Giants had it in the bag. He was a Detroit fan though and teased me that we didn't stand a chance. We went back and forth a bunch of times; just playing really, making outlandish claims or jeers. I'd said a buddy of our probably knew the score and we should call him but just then Jason got this wicked expression on his face.
"Wanna make a bet?" He grinned evilly.
"I aint got no cash, bro, so don't even think about it."
"Oh, so you're not so sure you'll win, eh?"
"I don't bet what I can't cover," I said.
He thought a moment, and swigged his beer, draining the bottle. "I have a better idea. Loser becomes the winner's slave for a week."
I laughed. "Are you serious?"
His expression was bemused but a hint of seriousness was in his eyes. "Yep, very. Loser does whatever the winner says, takes whatever gets dished out."
I took a big swig of beer. "Fine. You're gonna lose, you know."
"Who knows? Two teams, one game. Kinda like flipping a coin. 50-50 chance that you lose."
"Or that I win."
He grinned. "Guess we'll find out. We have a bet?" He picked up the phone.
I guess at that moment I wasn't thinking about my fantasies for him or anything, I got a little cocky after being razzed about my team. I drained my beer bottle.
"Its a bet, " I said, locking my gaze to his.
He chuckled and called our buddy.
"Hey man, its Jason, what’s up? .... Oh yeah? Cool, bro. Look, I had a question for you. Who won today's game? ..uh uh. ..uh uh. Oh really? wow. So, Detroit won, for sure?" He quickly put the phone to my ear long enough to hear, "Oh yeah, Detroit slaughtered them, 16-10." He pulled it back to his ear and grinned. "Thanks, man. Lemme call you back later, ok? Alright bro, later." He hung up.
I gulped. "Best two outta three?"
He didn’t look up from the beer bottle he was setting down in the pile. "Nope."
"And if I say, I aint gonna do anything you say?"
"You'd welch on the bet?"
I didn't like it being put in those terms and stayed silent.
"I didn't figure you for being that way, bud. I could point out I'm bigger than you are, if that helps."
I sighed. "Fine, fine. Whatever tho, this stays between you and me or the deal's off."
He looked up and grinned. "You bet."
He didn't waste much time. He stood up and locked the door and moved to the wall where he had a frat paddle hanging on the wall. He didn't end up sticking with the house he'd rushed, but he'd kept the paddle. I eyed it with a bit of fear.
"Alright bud, bend over."
"No way, dude!"
"You're already welching?" He sounded pretty stern and narrowed his eyes at me, his big arms tightening.
"No! I- look, I’ll do what you say bro, but c'mon. That thing is like a baseball bat." I know my voice must’ve suddenly sounded like I had regressed 10 years but I couldn't help it when I said, "C'mon man, don't beat the crap outta me...c’mon..."
He wore an expression of pity mixed with derision. "You pussy. Fine."
He pulled out the chair from my desk, sat down with a sigh and dumped the paddle on the bed. "C'mere."
I don't know why, maybe because he was so handsome, someone I've always wanted to be near or maybe because as such a big guy I just sorta always respected him but I found myself immediately coming to him when ordered me to. I didn't, however, expect to pulled swiftly across his lap.
"We'll do this the pussy way then, if you can't take it like a man." There I was, bent over my best friends lap, looking down at his socked feet as they found a comfortable position beneath me. I couldn't believe it was happening but I was more shocked when he actually began hand spanking me! "The bet was pretty simple, bro. You agreed to do whatever I said, and to take whatever was dished out, didn't you"
I was wearing sweat pants, just like him, we'd just recently gotten home from practice, so I could feel those heavy sweats fairly well and it didn’t take too many to start feeling the burn. I felt just like a little kid and found myself swiftly answering his questions. "I did!"
"Five seconds into the bet, you’re already whining and trying to welch out." Swat, swat, swat. He kept a steady pace.
"I'm sorry!" I couldn’t believe I said it, and just like a kid. I'm not surprised he chuckled.
"Well, you better be. First thing you're takin is this spanking...then I have some special jobs for you."
He kept up the swats as I said, "Ok! I'll do it, c’mon!" but he wasn't deterred.
"You'd better, bud."
"I said I would, c’mon stop!"
"No way, dude. This is part one of your punishment man. I’m not spankin’ you till you agree to keep the bet. This IS the bet." With that, he pushed up with his knee till my ass was way high in the air and yanked down my sweat pants, revealing my bare ass snugly framed by my jockstrap. I cried out a little in protest but he paid no attention, and, settling his legs back down, he adjusted my position over his knee and continued spanking. "You're gonna be a good little slave boy and do whatever I say, aren’t ya?"
I could see him move his feet to get more comfortable all the while I was bent way far over, my bare ass up and being slapped. I couldn't believe the humiliation. I could barely put any volume into my reply. "Yes, sir," came weakly out.
He chuckled again. "That's better. You should call me that all week, slave. Or you may find yourself over my knee some more. You want me to use that paddle?"
I tensed. "No!! Please! I'll do what you say!"
"...Sir." he coached.
"Sir! I'll do what you say, Sir! PLEASE."
"Alright, you'd better, boy." He paused a moment in his swats and I thought he was done but he only adjusted my position so I was bent way farther over, my face now down by his socked feet and my ass super high in the air. He then went to town on my ass, spanking sharply and briskly at a much faster pace. I have to admit, I kicked and squirmed and complained but he gave me a long and thorough spanking. Sometimes he spanked both cheeks at once, and other times he alternated between them, but always keeping up the pace. His big hands must've left prints on my cheeks, and they felt like they were being given one helluva sunburn. I also have to admit that all the way I also turned on, even though I didn't get hard. I wouldn't dare. But having my best buddy, this straight, hot, muscular dude, turn me over his knee and lecture me while he tanned my ass was driving me wild. Suddenly, with a few slower, really hard, attention-getting slaps, he finished and picked me up effortlessly and set me on my feet. I couldn't even look at him. I just stood there, rubbing my burning ass.
"Alright boy. Think you've your lesson about welching?"
"Yes, Sir..." I couldn't meet his eyes.
"Ok. If we have any trouble during this week, I'll use that paddle. And that hurts way worse."
"I'll do what you say. Just- c’mon, don't be cruel. It was just a bet..."
"I won't be, I promise." He patted my back gently. "But you're gonna live up to the bet, ok?"
"Ok." I was ready. Whatever this dude wanted, I'd do.
He stood up and told me to kick off the sweat pants that were still coiled around my ankles. I did so, not even realizing I was going to be serving him in my jockstrap. He moved us to his desk, his arm around my shoulder, and pulled out his own chair.
"I think a lesson in giving me some respect is in order. Some quiet time, time for you to think about your new position around here. And time to let that ass cool off." I didn't know what he was getting at, at first. I thought maybe he was going to make me stand in the corner or something, given the spanking I had just gotten. "I want you to lay down on your back, with your head under my desk." He pulled the simple, wooden chair away from the desk. I laid down, head under the desk, looking up at the drawer, wondering quite what he was gonna do. Was he gonna leave me here? I looked to see him replace the chair, its legs straddling my body.
"Alright boy. Your lesson in respect is gonna be simple, but its gonna make a really good point. I don't expect to hear a single complaint. You just take it nice and quiet or else." I still didn't know what he was going to do; I thought he might leave under there or something. I knew, however, the 'or else' involved that paddle and my already sore ass so I just shut up.
I wasn't prepared for what happened next. He said, "I have a ton of homework to do. Three papers due this week. I'll have to set to it right away." And with that, he sat down in his chair and slowly, lumbering, set his feet to rest right on my face. The smell from his socks wasn't rank or anything but had a good, strong manly scent. His feet were large and heavy, and his socks warm. I couldn't believe it! I'd always wanted to be at his feet but I'd never dreamed of this. I couldn't help but let out a little muffled noise, though, and he was quick to silence me. "Quiet, boy. I told you, no complaints. Now, I know my feet probably smell and all but I told you I have three papers to work on, so keep it quiet so I can concentrate." He seemed to wait a few long moments, as if to see if I'd cause trouble. I just stayed still and quiet, overwhelmed by the sight, smell and feel of his powerfully large feet on my face. "Alright then," he said, finally, and pulled out the keyboard drawer and began working on his computer. I felt his feet relax and their weight on my face increase and he settled in for a long day.
The first few minutes were definitely hot. Big socked feet resting in my face, the sound of the keys being typed on above me but as time ticked on, the thought that this was going to take many hours started sinking in and made it even hotter. He adjusted his right foot a bit, and cracked his toes. His left rubbed and twisted a bit, smooshing the foot into my face in a sure sign of dominance. But he didn’t say a word. He just kept typing. After a few more minutes, he sat back a bit in the chair and the typing stopped. I heard him crack open a soda and take large swig and he rubbed his feet a little bit. I heard the can get set down and he pressed hard on my face as he scooted his chair in a little more and got back to typing. I stayed like that for about 30 minutes.
Suddenly, he lifted one foot off my face, and stopped typing, and I thought maybe it was over. I heard this soft, noise I couldn’t at first figure out until the foot returned to my face...bare. He lifted the other one and I heard him remove that sock as well. That foot sorta slapped down onto my face and again he pushed himself into the desk a little deeper, using my face for leverage. Now my humiliation was complete. He didn't even taunt me this time. Just bare feet right in my face and back to work, like I was just a pillow.
Now freed from their socks, his feet relaxed and flexed and he worked his toes really good trying to massage them on my face. At times he rubbed them both up and down, alternating, on my face. This lasted a good while.
He let loose a big sigh and paused his typing, probably reading it over. After a few minutes, he clicked his mouse and turned on his mp3 player. "1979," by Smashing Pumpkins started to play. He continued his typing but now he started tapping his feet to the music!
At first, he tapped his toes, his heel staying mostly on my chin, making a slight slapping sound with every tap. But soon he planted his toes and bounced his heel up and down to the music. As the song progressed, he mixed it up, tapping and slapping his bare feet this way and that. During drum-heavy portions of the song, he slapped both feet all up and down my face. He was really humiliating me now and I had to silently take it all. All I saw above me was his giant bare feet coming down again and again, paying no mind to my discomfort or embarrassment.
The song ended and his feet slowed down and finally stopped as the song faded out. I thought maybe he had made his point but as the next song started, he started up again, and I realized it was far from over.
Over the course of three hours he must've listened to 4 full CDs. Different genres, different artists, and with it came different foot tapping techniques. The Pumpkins CD resulted in furious foot slapping to the heavy drumbeats. His favorite techno band brought lots of toe wiggling all over my face. The country album made for embarrassingly good foot thumping and the slower, quieter tunes from the last CD allowed him to rub and massage his feet all over my captive face. When the final song finished, he left his feet to rest square on my face. No more music followed.
There was a long silence and then he parted his feet, "You still awake down there?"
I was so humiliated, it was hard to answer. "Yes, sir."
"Yeah I guess it'd be hard to fall asleep through that. You doin ok? I have most of the second paper finished."
"Yeah, I’m alright. Man, would it help if I said I’m sorry?"
"Nah, nothin to be sorry about bro. You just lost a bet and I’m collecting. You gonna live up to this?"
"Yes. I promised I would and I will. I just-"
He didn't let me finish. "Alright good. Just an hour or so more, and we'll find something better for you to do." He settled his feet again.
The typing started again and his feet remained still for a few more minutes, suddenly, he picked up one foot, and used the other to turn my head profile. He planted his right foot firmly on my face and snuggled it in. Then he crossed his legs and got comfortable. Now one foot was supporting the weight of the other leg right down onto my face. I could barely look up from that position to see the other foot dangling down at me as he typed away, doing his work. So here I was, my buddies big bare foot heavily pressing down on my face like a mere footrest, a few hours after he spanked the tar outta me. I couldn't imagine where else this was going to go. After a while, he removed his foot and it felt good to have some relief from the weight. But he just used the side of his foot to turn my head the other way, planted the other foot, and did the same thing again! I stayed there, that way, a good long while. Finally, he declared, "Done."
I let out a soft sigh of relief and he chuckled. "Think you've spent enough time as a foot rest?"
"Yes, sir," came my muffled reply.
"Heh, I can give you some other duties that may be just as humiliating but at least you'd be out from under there. Should I, or do you want me to surf the net a few hours and listen to more tunes?"
"I'll do what you say, I promise."
"Alright." He removed his feet, stood up and pulled the chair away. "Get up."
Slowly, I got to my feet, a little stiff from being under there so long. "Get yer pants and go take a piss or whatever, get ready to serve me some more. And don't even think about not coming back or I’ll spread the word about you gettin spanked all over the dorm."
I nodded and said, "yes, sir," and put on my sweats and went to take a piss. All the while in the bathroom I couldn't believe what we'd done, it all felt like a dream. When I got back to the room, he was sitting on his bed, his big bare feet propped up on our cooler. He was reading a sports magazine.
"Alright boy. You just showed me a lotta respect in a real passive way. And you did a good job, not a peep outta ya. But now its time to show me more...active, respect."
I didn't know what he had in mind.
"Sit down there on the floor. ...And kiss my feet."
He didn't even look up from the magazine. I couldn't believe it. I just numbly knelt down and sat on my heels and stared at these two big, perfect, bare feet, propped up, cross ankle, and relaxing. They bounced ever so slightly, toes flexing now and then. "Go on, kiss my feet." He repeated the phrase. With deep humility, and admiration for my best buddy, I slowly licked my lips and applied the first kiss. He sighed with over exaggerated relief. "Nice. Keep going. I'm gonna enjoy this."
I settled in and set to work, kissing my friend's bare feet while he chilled. I started on the center of his soles but realized soon I had the entirely of his feet to get to work on and so began kissing down at his heels, up under his toes, and finally began kissing each and every toe several times. He turned a page. "Keep goin, this feels good."
I did so, rewetting my lips every so often so I could make every kiss sincere. He swapped the position of his feet; now crossing right over left and turned another page.
I kissed up and down the soles, tasting the saltiness of his masculine bare feet while he relaxed and read. You'd think after so many hours with them in my face I'd have become immune to their scent but here, kneeling before them, my nose under his toes as I kissed his sole, I smelled them perhaps more deeply than before. He enjoyed his magazine awhile as I kissed all over his superior, dominant feet. He paid me no attention. This lasted well over an hour until...
"This feels good and all but I ran a lotta laps today and my feet need some more...detailed work.
They’re awful tired. Stop kissing ‘em."
I stopped, unsure what was to follow.
"Take a good long look at them."
I did. I didn't know what he was going to have me do with them but my eyes drew in the sight of them, so close still my nose inhaled the scent of them, and I knew I was going to be even more deeply humbled at them.
"I think they need a thorough washing and massage. Don't you?"
"Yes, sir." I replied with a sense of resignation. "I'll go get a towel and some water." I moved to get up but he stopped me.
"Whoa whoa whoa, don't go anywhere slave. I didn't say anything about towels or water."
"Well how am I supposed to wash them?"
He smirked and returned to his magazine. "With your tongue, boy. Now get to it."
I paused, considering a show of refusal or begging or something but I knew it'd do no good. I sighed and leaned forward slowly.
I couldn't let it go without some show of protest or he'd realize I liked it. "Do I really hafta?"
"Yep. Or else. Now get to it. And keep up a good pace, it'll feel real good."
He chuckled and I drew a deep breath. Wetting my tongue up real good, I applied it flat to one big foot and dragged it from heel to toes. "Ahhh now that feels awesome. That'll be yer job till dinner. Say...2 hours?" He leafed through the magazine.
"Yes, sir." I said softly and began licking up both bare feet like they were ice cream cones. He enjoyed this, clearly, and a satisfied smile crept across his face. He read awhile longer and then tossed the magazine aside in boredom. He picked up the remote and clicked on the TV. He surfed the channels till he found a sports report. He started to slightly move his feet in relaxation, watching the report and sipping another soda which he cracked open like he was king of the room. . And he was, now.
"Don't forget my toes. And be sure to lick between em real good too."
I silently bore my humiliation and started licking each toe, then dragging my tongue across them all at once. I then selected a toe and made my tongue long and stiff. I shoved it between that toe and the next and pushed it in and out swiftly like a saw. He smiled and told me I was doin a good job and enjoyed his sports report. When they got to today's game, my ears burned a bit but he turned off the TV before it could continue. "No need to rub it in, eh?"
My face was a bit red, and I paused a sec to actually say, "Thank you." He smirked. "No prob, least I can do for my little slave boy. Ok, boy, wash my feet real good. I bet they’re tasty too, huh?"
"Yeah, its great, " I said with mock frustration and he only laughed.
"Yeah, tasty. Ok boy, wash em real real good for me. I’m gonna find a movie to watch. This is gonna be an awesome week."
------------End of part one-------------
