For the Weeend

After I show James out, Tim moves to the bathroom and begins drawing a bath. He calls me to him where he tells me, "we may have a late night ahead, so why don't you relax a bit in the tub? I want you clean and nice-smelling for my guests." He smiles, leaves the room for a moment and comes back with a glass of wine for me, and then leaves again, closing the door behind him. I move the wineglass to the side of the tub, and take some bath salts the hotel has supplied and drop them in the hot water before stepping in and relaxing. I hear Tim moving things about in the other room, but my mind turns to thoughts of what has happened, and what is to come.

24 hours ago I was a working mother, like millions of other women. In the past day I have become a strange man's sex slave, been an exhibitionist, made love to a woman, and jacked off a young man. How much more will I be asked to do in the next 24 hours? Will I come to a point where I must use the safe phrase given me? Sides of me I never wanted to admit existed have taken over my mind and body this weekend, and I believe I am embracing the change. Can I go back to my normal life at the end of this weekend?

I continue to think back on my weekend so far, my excitement from the earlier episodes being pushed to new heights as I think back on the past day and imagine what might be next.

The water is just getting cool when Tim comes for me. "Time to get you dressed." I step out to him holding a waiting towel for me, which he uses to dry my skin while I towel off my hair. He soon pronounces me dry and directs me to my makeup with the instructions to apply "just the basics, no need to try and look any sexier than you already are."

I spend some time drying and styling my hair, then apply foundation, a little blush and a little eyeliner, taking him seriously and preparing myself just as I would for a normal day of work. I stop and chuckle at this thought—I guess I will be working tonight, but this will be my first night of waitressing in quite a while, and certainly have never done so in what I think Tim will have me dressed in. I dab a pit of perfume behind my ears, between my breasts—and the bad girl in me moves my finger to do the same just above my sex.

I finish my makeup and move to the find Tim in the bedroom. I catch him just beginning to dress when I enter and he is completely nude, his cock and balls hanging at rest between his muscled legs. He sees me enter and smiles, then asks me to lie on the bed. He tells me to spread my legs and I think I am about to become his plaything again, but instead he moves between my legs with a towel and a pair of scissors and begins to work on my sparse thatch. I thought I had been well-trimmed when I was given to him yesterday, but Tim works for several minutes before pronouncing himself satisfied. "You smell nice," he says, apparently referring to my use of perfume in the area he has been working in, "but I prefer your natural smell more."

I sit up and look at my crotch to see that while I am not bare, my mons and lips are even more apparent than they were just a short time ago. I do notice that his cock has regained some firmness, and realize his work had an effect on him as well.

With that, Tim moves to the table beside the door and selects the tap pants, camisole, and peignoir I tried on last night. Handing them to me, he instructs me to dress. I breathe a small sigh of relief that I will be able to retain a small sense of modesty in front of his friends. While I am dressing, Tim retrieves my shoes from yesterday afternoon, and my outfit is complete. Or so I think.

Tim goes to his own bag, allowing me to watch his muscled ass flex as he walks away. He rummages around for a moment, finds what he is looking for, and returns to where I am standing next to the bed. I see he is carrying something red and seemingly made of velvet, and think it is a bow of some sort until he grabs each end and begins to reach to my neck. I realize then with fascination it is a collar or choker of some sort! I catch a glimpse of metal—the buckle, or a stud, perhaps—as he wraps it around my throat and fastens it. He straightens it a bit, then steps back and admires the look. When he is satisfied, he asks if I would like to look as well, and without bothering to reply, I turn to the mirror.

It is indeed a beautiful red velvet collar and goes well with my lingerie, but I quickly see what the flash of metal was—a loop, like you would see on a dog collar!

I look at Tim, unsure of the meaning, and he seems to understand my confusion.

"You are mine," he says, and I want my friends to know that—that you are mine, not theirs."

I take this statement to mean that for tonight I will be "eye candy" only, and am somewhat relieved by the thought.

With that, Tim further directs me as to what my tasks will be tonight. "You will not speak unless directed to, or spoken to. You will address my friends as 'sir', and will do whatever they ask. I will decide whether I wish to permit you to follow their suggestions or instructions, not you. These are very good friends of mine, and you should trust them as much as I do. Do you understand?"

I voice my acknowledgement and he finishes dressing, choosing a pair of exercise shorts and a t-shirt. We head back into the living room and Tim allows me to pour myself a glass of wine and relax as much as the situation will allow while he finishes putting cards and poker chips on the table. He is finishing up when there is a knock on the door.

"Get that, please," he asks, and I take a deep breath and do as I'm asked. My modesty takes over for a moment and I hide behind the door as I open it to find 3 men roughly the same age as Tim standing there. Even though most of my body is hidden, part of my camisole and filmy robe are visible to the group in the hallway and it causes them to hesitate, giving me a chance to get a better look at them. The man who knocked is blonde and about 6 feet tall, slim, and dressed in a pair of jeans and a golf shirt. Behind him and to his left is a blacked-haired man about 5'6", dressed in golf shorts and shirt, stocky with a bit of a pot-belly. To blondie's right is a black man, about 5' 10" and obviously well-toned, dressed in a pair of windpants and a tight t-shirt.

We both continue to stare at each other, me taking in the men before me and they temporarily at a loss what to do. Blondie eventually breaks the stalemate and says, "we're looking for our friend Tim—he said this was his room—"

Tim calls out from around the corner, "You've got the right place—c'mon in!"

I open the door wider, still remaining behind it, and they file in, each greeting Tim in turn while they continue to discretely check me out.

After they have all entered, I close the door behind them, my shield now gone. Once again I am thankful of the outfit Tim has chosen for me—while sexy in what it represents, it is not especially revealing.

Tim finishes with his handshakes and greetings and takes a moment to introduce me.

"Folks, this is Karen, our server for the evening. Karen, this is Ian—" motioning to Blondie—"Vince—" gesturing to the stocky man, "and Elliott," waving to the last member of the group.

"Jesus, Tim," Vince exclaims. "When you said you were having a waitress for this, I didn't have this in mind. Is she, y'know..."

"No," he laughs, "she's not a poker player. She's also not a pro waitress, or anything else you might think. She's on loan to me this weekend from a friend."

"Is this material for another one of your stories?" Ian laughs. "You do luck out. Do we get to be in your next story, too?"

"Not sure," Tim replies. "We'll have to see how things go. For now, she's mine. You can look all you want, but you can't touch." He pauses for a moment, almost as if he wishes to see if they will try to bargain, then continues. "Didn't you come to play Poker? C'mon, sit down and give Karen your orders. She'll get your drinks and food for you."

"She might be kind of a distraction..." Elliott announces.

"Want her to leave until we're done?"

As one, the group vetos the idea, laugh, and then finds seats at the table. I'm busy for the next 15 minutes getting drinks for the players and bringing them appetizers from the cart. Eventually everyone has been served, and I'm unsure what to do next as Elliott deals the first hand. Tim sees me standing by the cart and invites me to take something to eat and drink as well. I'm too nervous to eat, but gratefully take another glass of wine to bolster my courage.

After I have filled my glass, Tim motions me to stand next to him, saying something about being a "good luck charm". I do as asked, leaving to get a napkin for Ian, a fork for Vince, or some more Aztec Eggrolls for Elliott, always addressing each as 'sir', which they seem to get a kick out of, but I always return to Tim's side after. The men play, but continue to steal glances at me during shuffles or after they fold, the looks becoming longer and less discrete with each hand.

Tim first moves my robe to get to my thigh around the eighth hand. He pushes my peignoir back and idly strokes up and down my skin from my knee up to the bottom of my tap pants, going a little further underneath the loose leg of my shorts. Eventually his hand is reaching to my ass with each stroke, then returning to my knee. I am blushing furiously as he continues to fondle me in front of his friends.

"Jesus, Tim," Vince says after a few minutes of this. "That's not fair. How can we concentrate when you're playing with that on your side? At least show us something if we're going to lose all our money."

"You're right, but you'v already said you like her here, so I'll make you a deal," Tim says. "You guys seem to like my stories. So, to help you concentrate, every time any one of you wins a hand, I'll tell you a little bit about what Karen and I have been up to this weekend. Once I'm out of stories, I'll see what else we can play for."

Elliott laughs. "So you're going to reward us for winning by distracting us more? Well hell, we're playing anyways, so I'm in. I'll play just to see what comes after the stories. At the rate we're winning, we may never get there." With that, the other two men agree and Tim deals the next hand.

I begin to panic a bit at hearing Tim's proposal. This is not what I had in mind, and even with the adventures I've had this weekend, I'm not sure I want these strangers to know what those adventures are! Tim senses that I becoming stressed and his hand leaves my leg and goes underneath my robe and up the back of my camisole to give me a soothing, reassuring stroke. I am still unsure, but decide to wait and see how things play out.

Ian wins the hand. "Her husband gave her to me for the weekend," Tim says. "She's always had a hankering to belong to a strange man, so she's mine until tomorrow evening." I blush and look hard at the table, but say nothing. Tim recounts the details of my striptease, the pronounces, "A half hour after she got here, I came on her face." I blush even harder and wish I could crawl under the table. The men are mostly silent, save the obligatory "whoa," or "goddamn". What else could they say to this? It's not every day you are given this type of information while all of the players are in the room.

Tim passes the deck to Ian and says, "deal." Over the next several hands, Tim recounts all the details of our weekend so far, with details as little as my attention to him in the shower up to events such as the loss of my anal virginity and my first woman. With each story, the men get a little more boisterous, telling Tim how they would have loved to see me tied with a cock in my ass, or what they would do if they saw me naked in the hall. I am mortified to be the center of their attention, but the slut side continues to turn my excitement level up several notches as I realize what a tease this must be for these men.

Tim wins several more hands while the men are busy discussing what I look like under my lingerie, and then their attention turns back to advancing this game further. Elliott wins the hand, and Tim is at the point in our timeline where we walked in on James.

He begins the story, telling his audience about walking in on the young bellhop masturbating while holding my rabbit. He stops, and then says, "Karen, why don't you tell them what happened next?"

I don't look up, my mind reviewing the events after the point where Tim has stopped. "He undressed me..."

"Who undressed you?"

"The bellhop...James..."

"And then what..."

"You showed him how to spank me..."

"And?"

"He spanked me and I...undressed him, and...I...gave him a handjob."

The poker players are wild for this latest story.

"Jesus Christ, I would have loved to see that!"

"Is there anything she won't do if you tell her, Tim?"

"I'm going to have to jack off before I leave! I can't go out in public with this hard-on!"

"Cmon Tim! She's done this much. How about she shows us a little more, and we'll show her our 'appreciation'?"

"Well," Tim says slowly, "I suppose I could have her show you a bit more skin. Karen, please follow me." With that, he heads to the bedroom, me following two steps behind.

We reach the room and he shuts the door. "Are you OK with everything so far?" he asks. "If this is too much for you, you can stay in here until the game is done. At this stage, you may have to show them your goods, but I can tell them not to touch..."

"No, I'm alright," I reply, but the good girl is yelling at me to stop right here, knowing full well where this will lead.

"You know the farther we go, the harder it will be to stop, right?" he asks.

"I know," I say, "I trust you not to let me go too far."

"Good," he says. "Your husband gave me instructions on what is too far, both for him and what he thinks you think your limits are, and I will honor his request, and any you have for me right now. I'll make sure things don't get out of hand. They're good guys and will stop if I ask them, but you have them pretty hot for you at the moment. Are you ready to make them hotter?"

I nod, knowing in my heart that anything after this will mean more than just a look, and Tim picks up the teddy for me to wear. I slip off my robe, pants and camisole and reach for the lingerie when Tim suddenly grabs me and throws me on the bed, pulling my legs apart and driving his tongue into my pussy. I groan with the feeling of this strong man ravishing my cunt and I pull his head into me, trying to drive his tongue further up my pussy. He continues to stroke and lick with fervor for a moment more, then gets up off the bed and grins at me. I beg him to finish me, but he just tells me to get dressed while he rummages through his bag. With another groan I roll off the bed and step into the teddy, pulling it over my hips and threading my arms through the shoulder straps, then setting it correctly on my breasts while pulling it even through my crotch. I am just finishing when Tim is at my side. He reaches for my collar and with a snap attaches a leash! I look at him in surprise, but he just smiles, tugs the leash ever so gently, and says, "c'mon, my little slut. I want you to drive them wild."

With that, he opens the door and leads me into the other room. The gathered men greet me with wolf whistles and catcalls.

"Geezus, Tim. You take this slave thing pretty seriously! That's some hot shit! Let's see some more!"

Tim laughs and says, "how about a few more hands of poker? I'll sweeten the pot. Winner of the hand gets to hold the leash."

"Just hold the leash?" Vince asks.

"We'll see," Tim responds.

Tim wins the next two hands, then Ian wins the third. Vince and Elliott curse him soundly as Tim hands him the leash end and tells me to go stand by Ian until he loses. I do as I'm told and am hardly in position before I feel his hand on my ass, testing the firmness of my cheeks. Tim does not object—so much for look but don't touch—and I continue to blush but do not move. Distracted, Ian loses the next hand and control of my leash passes to Vince. The process repeats itself as Vince tests my ass, but also slides his hand further down the curve to my crotch, getting a finger in the side of the fabric in the process. Vince seems to object to losing control of the leash back to Tim more so than losing the hand itself, and I move back to Tim's side. His concentration and luck are excellent, and keeps my leash for three more hands before Elliott breaks the streak. I move to his side and expect more of the same, but Elliott has other plans. He asks to be dealt out and quickly concentrates on me, spinning me to face him and burying his face in my crotch, only a thin piece of fabric separating his tongue and my clit. His hands reach for my breasts and begin to play, still outside my garment, but still playing with my covered nipples nonetheless. I grind my cunt against his face, trying to relieve the need my button has for friction. Too soon, Tim wins me back.

"Damn," Elliott says. She's wet as hell, and smells like she's in heat. She was liking what I was doing, Tim—whattya say I give her what she wants?"

"Tell you what," Tim says. "Let's up the stakes. If I win this next hand, Karen gets dressed and will just play waitress the rest of the night. Any one of you win, she gets naked. Who's in?"

All 4 men throw in their ante and Tim deals. I am standing next to him and see he has drawn 3 Jacks, a 10 and an 8. I realize Tim has a good chance of winning this hand and a wave of relief washes over me followed by—was that disappointment?

The table goes through their initial round of betting, and the group throws their discards at Tim for replacement. I watch the action and look back down at Tim's hand to see what he now has to go with the trio of Jacks, but see that two of them are now conspicuously absent—he's going for a straight! The cards he dealt himself won't win him much, though—he gets back a 2 and a King. Either the others have nothing either, or I will be showing them everything shortly.

The betting goes around the table for a couple of rounds, and then the moment of truth arrives. Ian lays down two pair, Elliott a pair of 9s, and Vince lays down a straight. They all look at Tim expectantly, who in turn lets the tension build a bit.

Finally Ian can take it no more. "C'mon man, do we get a show?" he pleads.

Tim takes his time, laying his cards down one by one. The 10, then the Jack.

"Uh-oh," Elliott moans.

Tim lays down the King, and Vince shouts, "looking better!" The 8 goes down, and the men quickly do the mental math—no way Tim can win now! The cheering erupts, and Tim throws down the 2, a smirk on his face.