"You like that smell? Does it turn you on, Arnold? I bet it does. I knew you'd like it, you little pervert. Let's just see how long you can take it."
Bridget continued to rub her reeking, filthy, sweaty socks into my face, until she was good and ready to stop.
The entire time, I was forced to breathe only through my tortured nose; the girls who were forcefully sandwiching my skull between their (now bare) feet had taken off their utterly filthy, sweat-soaked socks, and stuffed them right into my poor mouth. Meanwhile, the raunchy, outlandish odor of Bridget's sock-covered feet was killing me.
"Are you ready to give up yet, slave?" she asked. "Do you want my stinky socks out of your face?"
"Yes" I mumbled through the sole of her sock.
"Then you have to do me a favor first," she said. "Relationships go two ways, you know."
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