Today, of all days, your lover decided to have his friends over for a poker game. Thinking you would have the evening alone with him, you splurged on a manicure, facial, and a new hair cut. When you got home, your lover told you how much fun tonight would be when his "friends" came over. He didn't even notice your new look. Well, yes he did. He told you that you didn't have to dress up for his friends and to go change into something less, well, distracting.
You began to breathe deeply, just like all the shrinks say you should when you get upset. Going into your room, you mutter, "Distracting, huh? I'll give you distracting."
Standing before your closet, you chose your shortest skirt and lowest cut blouse. A black skirt with leather around the waist and thin fabric flaring from your perfect hips and a sheer white blouse designed to show of your lacy bras. Maybe his friends would appreciate what he obviously did not. Picking out your favorite matching bra and thong set, (a lacy red set that leaves very little to the imagination), and your black heels to complete your ensemble.
As the guests start to arrive, you go to the front room to greet them. It's obvious your lover's friends were very appreciative of your efforts but your lover looked pissed. He didn't say anything, but he gave you that, "I can't believe you are embarrassing me in front of the guys" look. I was the last to arrive, venturing a small peck on your cheek before sitting down. "You look fantastic." I say, looking directly into your eyes. It is difficult to look at anything BUT your gorgeous body in that outfit, but I manage.
At this point, we start the poker game. You bring us snacks and drinks throughout the game, not because you want to be the dutiful lover, but because you know it's pissing off your lover. Despite the distraction, your lover does fairly well. Between him and me, we cleaned out Dave and Ed, leaving just us two. That is when I begin to take control of the game and your lover sees his pot dwindle away to nothing. Not wanting the game to end, he tried to bargain with me. He just drew into a full house (3 Kings and 2 Jacks), and felt VERY confident about taking this pot. "Honey, come here for a second." He called.
When you get there, he said, "What do you think? Should I bet everything?"
Looking at the cards, you say, "Sure."
Your lover sat up a little straighter in his chair and looked directly into my eyes. "If I win this hand, I get ALL the money in the pot." You looked confident; thinking of all the ways you could spend the money. I looked at you and smiled. You looked great like that.
"And if you win," he continued and pointed to you, "She will do ANYTHING you say for the rest of the night." Your mouth dropped and you began to stammer out a string of curses, but I interrupted with my acceptance of the terms.
Your lover placed his cards on the table and proudly exclaimed, "Full House. Kings over Jacks." And started pulling the pot towards himself.
"Well, all I have is two pairs. I have one pair of threes, and another pair of threes." I put my cards on the table and look directly at you with lust unbridled in my eyes. "I guess I win you for the night."
Your lover did not meet your glaring gaze. He lost the most beautiful woman he had even known in a poker game. It was almost a cruel joke. He tried to say he was just kidding, but he knew the bet was valid. You are all mine for the night.
I can see your mind running through your options. You begin to say you have nothing to do with that asshole's bet, but you really thought he would win and you were going to spend the money if he won. Steeling yourself, you reach for my hand and try to take me to the bedroom. You figure a quick blowjob and a doggie style fuck would wear me out to the point that I wouldn't be able to ask for anymore. In fact, you think, you may even let me cum in your mouth. That would show that asshole that he shouldn't have bet you in the game. Surprisingly, I don't follow you into the room.
"Hold on there, Baby. The bet was that you would do anything I tell you to for the rest of the night. I don't recall telling you that I want to go to the bedroom. I think I want another drink. But there is a catch. Every time I see you, I want you to be wearing less clothing. Let's start out with those pretty heels. Hand them over."
This is getting worse and worse. "I am NOT taking my clothes off in front of these guys! That wasn't part of the deal!"
"Oh, but it was. You have to do ANYTHING I say. And now I say you will address me as Master." Oh, the look in your eyes when I made my demand for you to submit to my perverted desires was priceless. The smoldering look in your eyes would have melted the will of most men. It is obvious that you are not used to submitting to anyone.
You take a deep breath, bend down to take off your heels and say, "Yes, Master."
As you turn to go to the kitchen, you hear me say, "Just a reminder, Sweetheart. You need to take off something else before you come back in." You stop dead in your tracks but don't turn around. You know if you saw my face right at this moment, you would say something. You resume your deep breathing as you hear my laughter in the background and resume your trek into the kitchen. Upon entering, you walk to the fridge, hoping the cool air will temper the heat you are feeling right now. Grabbing a beer, you try to decide which article of clothing you would take off next. Of all days not to wear pantyhose. That wouldn't be too bad. You decide to take off your panties because I wouldn't see any more of you than I already had. You decide that if you are going to submit, you are going to do it on your own terms. You place the tiny underwear around the neck of the beer bottle and re-enter the front room.
"Here you go.......Master," you say frostily. I smile and tell you that Ed is looking a little thirsty. "Why don't you be a good little girl and fetch HIM a beer now."
