The Game

AN: Just a quick story (that had to be extended due to the 750 word minimum) that I decided to write on a whim. Just a warning that this is more of a teaser to a larger story I am going to write.

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It is Friday evening, a very special evening, because Master's favorite football team is in the playoffs. He has been looking forward to this all week. From the moment he came home to you, you have felt his ecstatic energy. He eats the spaghetti you have made with gusto, though he passes on the wine for now, knowing that he's going to have a few beers later.

While the two of you eat together, he tells you about his day at the office and asks about yours. You complain about the morning cleaning crew, how you have found the shattered pieces of one of Master's crystal figurines and how they pretended that one of the cats broke it. Master laughs heartily at the story and waves it aside, a hundred dollar figurine is nothing compared to how much he makes. He offers to take you shopping tomorrow to pick out another to replace the collection, and perhaps some nice new clothes too? Not that he doesn't absolutely love the black and white maid outfit that you wear when he comes home. He looks at you lustfully and you blush happily.

You have been with Master for over a year now, and so far it has been fantastic. Master supplies you with room and board and a modest salary, and in return you cook for him and cater to his...other needs.

After dinner he retires to the living room and you clear the table and load the dishwasher. You entertain yourself with some games on your Ipad and three hours have passed when you hear Master call to you and say that the game is starting.

You prepare a tray of Master's favorite barbeque chicken wings and grab a couple of beers from the fridge. The game had already started and he barely looks away from the screen as you place the food in front of him. You take a seat next to him on the couch, crossing your legs at the ankle and tucking them close, and you smooth your black and white lace skirt over your thighs. You want to look good for Master, though he is very distracted right now. Traditionally he likes watching the game alone, but somehow you have found a way to become the exception.

You have been learning the rules of the game and now you can appreciate how complicated certain maneuvers are and the skills it takes to complete them. You watched quietly for a while, but then you joke to Master about the fine buttocks of one of the players and he presses the cold beer bottle against the thin lace of your lower back. You let out a surprised squeal and he laughs, pulling you in close. You can smell the faint scent of his cologne when he kisses you, it reminds you of more intimate times and you feel a stirring between your legs.

You lie lazily across his lap, watching the game with your head resting against your propped up arm while Master eats the wings and drinks one of the beers. It isn't until ten minutes later, when Master takes a swig of his beer and puts the bottle back down that his hand brushes against your ass.

He rests his hand there, squeezing every so often. You want to look but he grabs your hair, keeping you still. You wouldn't want to miss any minute of the game.

The ass groping goes on for a while before he brings his hand up to lick it, then slips his hand into your panties, and you squirm as you feel his warm hand cup your buttocks. He spreads your cheeks and rubs his fingers over the tight, muscled hole. You feel your face getting hot as he nonchalantly watches the game all the while teasing you. You watch the game but you're not really focusing anymore, not when Master is doing naughty things to you.

You're staring at the player' asses, their muscular thighs, wondering how they many women they have fucked, what would happen if they returned to the showers and found you there, soaking wet and naked.

Master slowly slips a finger into you and every inch reminds you of your place, and how you belong to him. You pant unabashedly as he thrusts in and out of you, a lustful animal, until finally you come, hard and clenching around him as the game ends.

"We won." he exclaims proudly, sliding his finger out of your ass as you let out a weak, happy moan on response. He stands up to face you and you see the impressive bulge in his jeans. He gives you a wicked grin as he picks you up in his arms. "Now let's go celebrate."

The End