I had it all figured out, or so I thought. I would win the bet, of course I would, because I had won so many times before, right? And then you would be mine to do with as I please. I would enjoy myself all weekend watching you prance around in the clothes I had laid out for you. Or rather, the lack of clothes. Just some skimpy little thong panties would do. Maybe some thigh-high stockings. Some high-heeled shoes. And if anything wasn't to my, well, satisfaction, I would spank you, and then enjoy myself even more watching those tiny thongs frame a nicely reddened bottom. And the blowjobs, oh the blowjobs... I get hard even thinking about them now.
But if I had it all figured out, and was so certain I would win the bet, of course I would... Why am I the one currently wearing skimpy little thong panties that neatly frame my reddened bottom? And nothing else? And why, if I had it all figured out, am I in front of you, on my knees, hands tied behind my back, with my tongue buried in your soaking wet pussy? My hard cock, bereft of blowjobs, throbs in frustration as you moan and ride my face towards yet another orgasm.
How, just how, did I get myself into this predicament? Until now, I had always fancied myself as the dominant party whenever we engaged in kinky stuff. I thoroughly enjoy taking you over my knee for a spanking, playing with your bum cheeks, your thighs, your pussy, until your whole body seems to consist of heat and pleasure. I love tying you up and caressing you until you beg me for release. And yes, I do enjoy turnaround sessions from time to time, when you tell me what to do, and being naked whilst you are fully clothed remains a great turn on. But to sink into submission like I have now? I never thought I had it in me. And playing the dominant role wasn't your thing, either. Boy was I wrong.
The build-up was as un-erotic as everyday life gets. We are slowly renovating our house, using what little time is left over from work, chores, and raising children. The children would be away for the weekend, so we decided to redecorate the upstairs landing. Cleaning, removing clutter, and a fresh coat of paint. On Friday, we took out everything that did not figure in our post-renovation plans and cleaned the room.
It was while cleaning that I developed the devious idea that led to my undoing. In the evening, I challenged you to a board game with a sexy twist. We do that sometimes, at least we used to before the children put a severe crimp on our frisky times. The special house rule is that for every ten points scored, the losing party must take something off or complete a challenge set by the winner. When the game is over, the winner decides what happens next.
Usually, the whole exciting setup gets you so flustered that I easily win, as was my plan this time. Overconfidently, before playing, I had shared all my devious plans with you, and continued to do so during the game as you, as expected, shed your clothing item by item.
"I'm going to keep you naked all through the next day", I told you, "except for some sexy thong panties. Some high heels, maybe. You know how I love seeing you in nothing but a thong."
You nodded, hesitantly.
"And", I told you confidently, I am going to let you do all the paint work, and whenever you miss a spot or spilled some paint, I will spank you. And have my way with you."
Oh, the confidence...
And then the tables turned on me. You started gaining point after point, quickly making up your deficit. You did not let me take off any clothes yet, though, enjoying yourself with thinking out sexy little tasks for me to perform, such as a sexy dance or stroking myself through my clothes. Still, I was having fun, and I was sure my luck would turn for the better again. Wrong again, as you made some killer moves that put me behind definitively. Eighty points in one go meant I would be left without any clothes at all, and some extra dares to fulfil on top of that.
Now that was not how I planned this at all...
You briefly left me to consider my predicament, and you returned with a small gift box. Smiling, you handed it over to me.
"But don't open it yet. First, take off those clothes, mister."
And so I did. Stark naked, with, I could only admit, a fully erect cock, I took the box and open it. In it was a pair of men's underwear, as skimpy as I would like to see on you. A black, silky affair with a small gusset where the back was supposed to be. A thong. I whistled.
"Go on, put them on, I want to see what I will be looking at all day tomorrow," you smirked.
Hesitantly, I put on the tiny panties, which covered my cock, and nothing else. The gusset disappeared invitingly between my arse cheeks. For all the effort I had put into getting you into thongs, and out of them, I had never worn one myself yet. Odd, when you come to think of it. The feeling was not uncomfortable, sexy even. You had me parade in front of you, bend over, wiggle my hips. And then I had to fulfil the dares. You had me re-iterate, fantasy by dirty fantasy, everything I had planned for you for tomorrow.
"Interesting", you nodded as I explained how I planned on your parading around in nothing but a thong, perhaps some stockings and high heels, "go on."
Hesitantly I told you about the spankings and the blowjobs again.
"I see," you said, smiling. Then you told me to take the panties off again. "They are not for today, darling. You will wear them tomorrow. And nothing else. You know the drill."
And with that, the thong disappeared into its box again. I was now beside myself with lust, but you held off any attempts at lovemaking from my side.
"Save your energy, pet. You'll be needing it tomorrow."
And so we went to bed, me slightly frustrated, worried about what would come the next day.
The next morning, after breakfast, you had me strip again and presented me with the thong panties. I obediently put them on, and we set to work. That is, I did most of the work, and you busied yourself admiring the view, fondling my bare behind, and just being a general nuisance.
All day, you kept exploring my limits, just as I had planned on exploring yours. Before the morning was up I had already found myself over your lap twice, thong-clad bottom thrust upwards.
The first time, you came up behind me, brushing your body against mine from behind, gently kissing and nibbling my neck and earlobe, and purring "let's see how much you can handle, shall we pet?" I shivered and let out a low moan, but my cock spoke another language altogether.
That first time I lay across your lap, cock rubbing against your thighs under the skirt, you noticed I gained colour a lot quicker than you. Ten firm spanks on each buttock already conjured up some nice pink splotches of colour. The colour evaporated quickly, though, so I had hardly finished giving the wall its first coat before I once again took the trip across your knees for a harder, longer spanking.
"Twenty swats on each cheek this time, pet. I think you can take that," you purred as you stroked and massaged my behind. I swallowed worriedly, but what could I do? Each firm spank drove my cock against your thighs, mixing stings with pleasure, and before I knew it, I was humping your thighs like a thing in heat. Oh, how funny you found that.
"You naughty man!" you laughed, "you are enjoying this, aren't you?"
My croaked "maybe" wasn't convincing you, earning me another couple of swats for lying.
But it wasn't just me that was 'maybe' enjoying this; you then had me slide from your lap, onto my knees, tied my hands behind my back with a scarf, hiked up your skirt and slid aside your own much less skimpy undies.
"Well, this can't be all fun and games. Get to work!"
So here I am now, in a predicament of my own making, cock throbbing in my thong, bottom slightly red, hands tied, sucking and licking like there is no tomorrow. It's like the poet said, right? "The best-laid plans of horny men oft' go awry," or something to that accord.
But, as you said, the day can't be all fun and games. We have work to do, after all. Soon I find myself, mouth hstill sticky with your juices, sanding and then again painting the wall of our landing. Oh, how I had it all figured out... I would be watching you, dressed only in high heels, your thigh-high stockings and your tiny thong panties, painting the wall and making sure not to drip any wall paint on the floor, because, I would whisper in your ear, "Don't spill any paint, dear. There will be five punishment spanks for each drop..." And I would laugh at your startled reaction, involuntarily adding to the spanks count. Oh, best-laid plans...
How confident I was, and how stupid, maybe, to indulge in telling you about my plans, because now, here I am, painting the wall, dressed in my own tiny thong panties, bottom still slightly red from the previous spanking session. And of course you come up behind me, cupping my eager cock with your hands, gently stroking it while I paint, and you tell me to watch what I am doing as I desperately try to not spill any paint.
"Five spanks per drop, remember?" I gasp but can only nod, if only because you grab my chin and wag it up and down.
"Yes mistress," you say.
Mistress? I moan lightly as your hand caresses my bare bum.
"Yes mistress," I croak. Oh, what have I got myself into?
With tremendous caution, I take care not to drip any paint on the newspapers we have spread out on the floor for protection. After an hour, the walls have their final coat of paint, and the red on my cheeks has subsided fully. You inspect my work.
"Now, how many drops do you see?" you demand sternly. "Count them for me."
"Er... None?" I try feebly.
You laugh. "On your knees. And now, count them. Properly. If I have to count them for you, I'll double the spanks for each drop."
I look up to you worriedly, but you briefly reassure me by winking and blowing me a kiss.
"Er, one, two, three... four..."
"What about these?" you point out an area I had not considered yet. Uh oh.
"Five, six, seven."
"Seven, Mistress." you say sternly."
"Seven, Mistress," I submissively repeat.
"I think it is eight. Look, that's two drops, not one."
