Poker Night Service

Author's Note: While this story fits within the universe of my others, sharing characters and themes, this story is absolutely stand-alone and entirely fictional. Enjoy.

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My wife walked into the den where I was setting up the table for tonight's poker game. She stood in the doorway, silently waiting for my inspection. I counted out the last stack of chips, placing it in front of the 8th and final chair around the table. I stood back, satisfied that the game table was prepped. Finally I turned my attention to my wife.

Tonight was 'Pet Night,' our once-a-month evening where she was mine to use however I pleased. This was an extension of our weekly Date Night, and there was a reciprocal night for her to do the same with me. Previous Pet Nights had been spent relatively tamely; some roleplaying, others incorporating various outfits, and of course plenty of sex. This Pet Night, however, was moving to an entirely new level of Command & Obey.

She wore a simple black ruffled miniskirt and a black spaghetti-strap top. It was quite apparent she wore no bra, but her perky B-cups held their own very nicely. Her dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail. All in all it was a very subdued outfit, sexy but in a simple way, because the point wasn't to be flashy—it was to be casual.

I walked around her as she demurely stood with her arms clasped in front. I lifted her skirt, grunting in approval that she wore no panties. I gazed fondly at her tight ass for a moment, then dropped the skirt. Stepping around in front again, I inspected her makeup. Similar to the clothes, it was lightly applied to highlight her natural Asian beauty without being striking. I leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"You look lovely, my dear. Do you know what's expected of you tonight?"

"Yes, sir," she purred.

"Excellent. Our guests should be arriving soon. Why don't you wait by the door to greet them?"

"Yes, sir."

She flashed a flirtatious smile at me and turned to leave. As she stepped into the living room I swiftly shoved her over the couch and lifted her skirt again, rapidly swatting her butt cheeks several times. I pulled her upright and turned her around, disapproval written all over my face.

"Pet, I can make tonight easy or difficult," I said, looking into her eyes until she cast them down. She was breathing heavily, and I suppressed a smile as I realized my 'punishment' had turned her on more than hurt her. She was really getting into these nights...

"Play your part, just as we discussed," I continued, "Or this may continue through tomorrow."

"Yes, sir," she replied, subservient once again, if only just. I held her a moment for emphasis, then pushed her toward the front door, still trying not to grin.

I went into the kitchen to grab a beer and make sure all the food was ready. My wife had run the errands this afternoon and had been busy throughout the day making 7-layer dip, lemon bars, guacamole, etc. to serve during the game. The whole house smelled of fajitas. I was testing the homemade salsa when the doorbell rang.

I had prepared all of my friends for what to expect when they arrived. Some, who had no idea my wife and I were libertarian, were shocked; others, who had sampled the goods already, as it were, were still surprised by my wife's willingness to participate. Regardless of their initial reaction, all seven readily accepted.

The first to arrive was Matt, one of my closest friends and easily the least surprised of the invited guests about tonight's activities. He had stood beside me as a groomsman in my wedding and knew my wife very well, including in the Biblical sense. I watched his entrance over the counter, carefully eyeing my wife's actions.

"Good evening, Mr. Pardo; welcome to Poker Night," she said, leaning in and kissing him deeply. She took his hands and placed them on her ass, then she slowly knelt as his hands worked around to fondle her breasts. She removed his sandals, placing them neatly by the doorway. Next, she delicately loosened his belt, then unfastened his shorts. They dropped to the floor, and she helped him step out of them. Lastly, she leaned forward and kissed the bulge in his underwear before rising to her feet.

"You will find food and refreshments in the kitchen. Help yourself." With that, she effectively dismissed him and folded his shorts, placing them atop his sandals. As she leaned forward, Matt took the opportunity to rub her butt one last time before joining me in the kitchen.

"I knew you weren't kidding when you said she would do this, but damn, it's still amazing to actually see," he chuckled, shaking his head in amazement and grabbing a beer out of the fridge.

I smiled. "She's pretty well-trained at this point, but it's been a slow and ridiculously expensive process."

He laughed. "I'll bet. How many diamonds did this cost you?"

"None, actually. The price wasn't in dollar amounts," I answered cryptically.

He looked at me shrewdly. "This isn't going to cost me anything, will it?"

I shrugged, then grinned at him. "Payback's a bitch."

"Yeah, and I'm sure you're going to hate every minute of it," he said sarcastically as the doorbell rang again.

For each guest, my wife repeated her assigned procedure: greet with kiss, remove their shoes and shorts while being fondled, then finish with a kiss to the crotch. A proper welcome, indeed. Most of the guys wore boxers, a couple wore boxer briefs like me, and one who wisely went commando, much to everyone's amusement. My wife didn't hesitate, leaning forward and kissing the head of his semi-hard cock.

The commando was last to arrive, and after he fixed a plate of food for himself and grabbed a cold one we moved into the den. Everyone took a seat, and my wife took her place over my left shoulder. I had given her a close look as we moved out of the living room and I could see the obvious signs of arousal on her face, mixed with a certain amount of nervousness. But she was clearly excited to be the only female in a house of increasingly drunken half-naked men.

"Alright, gentlemen, cash Hold 'Em with increasing blinds. Forty bucks to buy in, twenty dollar re-buys. If you need refreshments, my pet will be happy to oblige," I said, pointing over my shoulder. Matt gave her a mock salute with his beer.

"Any questions? No? Alright, first ace deals..."

I played cards some in college, as did a couple of the others, one of whom actually took quite a bit of money his last time in Vegas, but on the whole our game was more about bullshit and fun than winning. My wife kept herself busy fetching beers and restocking plates of food. The den wasn't particularly big, so she had to shimmy around the backs of the chairs, and as she passed hands would find their way to various parts of her anatomy. She loves physical touch, and I could see that she was growing hotter under the collar with each hand.

As the dealer chip passed to me for the fifth or sixth time, I casually leaned back and said over my shoulder to my wife, "The game's getting pretty intense, and I think the guys could use some relaxation."

"Yes, sir." She said obediently, then knelt and climbed under the table.

Understandably, the room went deathly silent. John, the Vegas winner, was sitting to my right, and suddenly he was shifting his weight and smiling sheepishly.

"Big blind! Waiting on you," I said, marshaling everyone's back focus to the game (some of it, anyways). John played like a retard for a couple hands, then folded outright for another one before I heard him exhale deeply. I looked at him out of the corner of my eye, observing the sweat at his hairline and the half-lidded look in his eyes. My cock was rock hard knowing what my wife had just done.

The game continued, and soon Brett, sitting to John's right, jumped a little, then dropped his hands beneath the table and sat up briefly before returning to his cards. He didn't even try to hang on, folding at the first bet and mucking his cards for the next three hands without looking. Finally, he sat back and flipped the tablecloth up, looking down between his legs as he started moaning. Mike, the poor bastard to his right, was still in the hand but couldn't focus for shit as his eyes kept glancing to his neighbor's lap. Brett's moaning subsided and he murmured a 'thank you' with a smile before flipping the tablecloth back down.

Mike was another of my groomsman, but despite being one of my closest friends he had been surprised to discover what tonight's festivities included. His perception of my wife was what most of the world thinks of her: sweet, intelligent, friendly, and rather modest. It's not that she is intentionally misleading; that is simply one side of the very complex woman I married. Right now Mike was visibly nervous and the activity he had witnessed in the previous hand clearly did not help. Still, he shifted his chair slightly and lifted his hips as the others had done, but as the deal was to him, he valiantly tried to continue shuffling and dealing, but after giving everyone three cards twice he was relieved of the duty, and very soon relieved of his load, which was quite apparent to the rest of us from both the way he physically sagged and the stupid smile on his face.

By now I was winning handily, probably because I appeared to be the only even halfway paying attention to the poker. I had not expected this benefit, but if this kept up, maybe I would indeed be buying a little something for my wife in gratitude for her role. Otherwise, I could barely stand the strength of the throbbing in my cock, knowing my wife was 'servicing' these guys under the table like a good little sex slave. I have always been fascinated by the visual of her blowing another man, and while I obviously couldn't see her doing it from where I sat, the clear and present signals of her licentious behavior and the sexiness of the unseen slut working her way around the table were driving me wild, as I expected it would.

Erick the Commando grinned proudly that he was 'prepared' for the event. As one of his hands drifted beneath the table, I noticed most of the bottles on the table were empty.

"Pet, we need another round of beers for everyone. Wait until you're done, of course, but see to it."

"And there's no rush down there," Erick added as he tossed $5 in the pot. I grinned to myself, pleased to see someone understanding the situation.

Good poker isn't about who has the best hand, it's about who plays their hand better. The cards themselves do play a part, but any idiot can win with the best hand; good players can still find a way to win with the worse hand. It becomes a game of strategy, wits, attention to detail, and ultimately guts: do you have the balls to raise with a pair of fives with a king and an ace on the table? Erick did, and I applauded his courage, but I knew his betting style and recognized his bluff, calling him with my pair of kings and winning a sizable sum.

"Damn, I thought I was going to get you with that re-raise," he said good-naturedly. "Oh, well. Guess I'll just have to nut in your wife's mouth instead. 'Scuse me a moment."

His other hand went beneath the table and his face grew slack as his eyes closed and his mouth opened slightly. "Deeper...yeah, there you go...lick the balls, too...thaaaat's it..." He grunted quietly a couple times, then slumped back in his chair.

My wife emerged beside him, wiping the corner of her mouth. All eyes were on her as she squeezed between the chairs and the wall, working her way to the hallway. Just before she stepped out, I reached across and barred her way.

"Oh, and pet: take your top off." Without hesitation she pulled the tank up over her head, freeing her breasts to the masses. I reached up and took the tank top from her as she walked out, folding it and placing it next to my stack. "Alright, what am I...small blind? Deal the cards, John, let's keep it going."

"Huh? Oh, right—I'm dealing. Okay, here we go..."

We got to the river before she returned, beers cradled in her arms. I reached up and removed one, as did John and Mark, to my left. The game paused as she worked around the table, one by one the beer bottles were removed to reveal her breasts again. Erick was the first to fondle her as she passed and everyone after him did the same. Her chest was flushed red by the time she handed over the last one, though I couldn't tell if that was in arousal or from holding the frosty bottles against her skin.

Without prompting she disappeared under the table again and the game resumed. It's hard to say that the sexual tension in the room was high because we could only see other guys, but the slut beneath the table was ratcheting all of us up as, one by one, she stealthily sucked each guy's cock.

Ian was next in the chute. One of my best friends from high school, he was himself a newlywed, but had not hesitated to accept. He was another who did not about my wife's openness beforehand, but he laughed as I explained how she fit into tonight's festivities.

"You do know how lucky a sonofabitch you are, right? Yes, of course I'll be there."

As he squirmed about arranging his chair and removing his underwear, I asked him what he told his recent bride about coming over for the evening.

"The truth," he said simply. There was a moment of silence before everyone at the table burst out laughing.

"Wait a minute—you told your wife you were coming over her to play poker, or to play 'full service' poker?" Mark asked.

Ian shrugged and smiled. "The honest-to-God truth."

Now everyone looked at him disbelievingly. "So...are you going to need a place to stay tonight?" I asked half-jokingly.

"Nope," he replied. "She told me whatever Tori—excuse me, your 'pet'—does tonight, when I get home, she's going to do better."

Now that was an open and honest relationship. I raised my beer to him, as did the rest of my shocked mates. He returned the salute and we all drank.

"Did you hear that, pet? The gauntlet has been thrown, so you'd better do your best down there," I said down at the table.

Needless to say, Ian was worthless as a cardplayer for the next several hands. When he finally braced his hand on the table and grunted, we all mock-cheered and Erick thumped him on the back.

"I'd say the bar was set pretty high there, champ; hope your pretty little thing at home is up to the challenge," he teased.

"Shit, me too!" Ian replied, and everyone laughed. He looked at me. "Where did she learn how to do all that stuff? That was amazing!"

I shrugged. "She knows her job...that's why she's great pet."

"Fuck me, I'll second that. My wife definitely has her work cut out for her later."

"Have fun collecting. Otherwise, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. Alright: Mike, bet's to you..."

Rand, my roommate from college and best man, was next. His harpy bitch wife, whom he began dating in those days, has forever hated me, believing me to be a bad influence on him. Up until this moment that was bullshit, but I figured if she refused to see otherwise so many years later I might as well embrace my role. Unfortunately, Rand was clearly uncomfortable with this, and had been the most reluctant to accept tonight's invitation.

"I don't know if I can do that, man. I appreciate the offer, but I don't think I can do that to Jessie."

"I understand, dude, really I do; but since she already accuses you of cheating on her on a regular basis—which I know you've never done—why not at least give yourself the satisfaction worthy of the punishment you take?"

It was an underhanded comment and a completely manipulative line of argument, but I knew my man: he mulled it over for a while, then agreed.

At the moment of truth, however, I could see him glowering down at his cards but not making any play with his chips. Finally after stalling each time the bet came to him, I'd had enough.

"Y'know, when you get home Jessie's going to yell at you for being late or for drinking beer or for going out in the first place. But while you're in my house, I don't want you to worry about any of the consequences of your actions when you get home, because everyone here knows it doesn't matter what you do, you're going to be in trouble regardless. So why don't you relax and enjoy yourself? At the very least, loosen up a little; you've been hemorrhaging money ever since the, ah, 'pet chip' passed to you."

A few of the guys chuckled as Rand put down his cards and ran his hands through his hair, exhaling loudly. "Fuck it! You're right, man. Jessie hasn't given me any in three weeks and fuck if I know why. I need this, and damned if your wife doesn't know what she's doing." He leaned back in his chair and smiled for the first time in an hour. "I fold."

Cheers sounded around the table, and several lively hands followed as my wife (who, incidentally, has always found Rand to be very cute) relieved him of nearly of month's worth of frustration. Everyone cheered again when he announced his orgasm and followed it by slamming the rest of his beer. He looked like a new man, completely relaxed and having fun for the first time all night. His cardplay improved greatly, too.

Only one guest remained. Mark, one of my closest friends from college, was a 'professional' about the business, masterfully bluffing a sizable pot as I listened to my wife gagging slightly right next to me as she took his cock. Mark was a little guy, but word from the sorority sisters of one of my college regulars was that he was blessed nonetheless. My wife's soft gagging confirmed that—despite her petite frame, she's an accomplished deepthroater, so for her to be struggling with him said a lot. Mark also held out the longest, even longer than Ian, passing the dealer chip twice before cupping her head with his hands and holding her in place as he gently thrust into her mouth and unloaded.

By now I was effectively crippled with blueballs, but I hardly noticed the pain in my anticipation. Finally I felt my lovely wife's hands lightly gripping the waistband of my boxer briefs. I dutifully lifted my waist and they slid down my legs and off my feet. I looked at my A-3 suited and called the blinds. Her hands slid up my thighs as wet warmth closed around the head of my cock.

The dealer flipped over K-2-4 as she licked up and down the shaft. John bet, I called, and my mind briefly pondered the seven loads of cum that had passed through the mouth my cock was plumbing right now—my wife's mouth.

Another king on the turn, and John bet, bigger this time, and I called; the others all folded. My wife, the love of my life, had been my pet for the evening, agreeing to suck off seven of my friends merely because it would turn me on. God, I loved her. I also loved the way she licked my balls, and a new thought flashed through my mind—her tongue swathing the nutsack of every guy at this table—as Mike flipped over a 5: I had caught my straight.

John checked. I hesitated, then bet decently, imparting a bluff. He bit off on it, and then some, raising me as my wife resumed deepthroating me. I called, and flipped over the straight to his K-J three-of-a-kind as the combination of my wife's wanton behavior, talented mouth, and unquestioning acceptance of her role overwhelmed my self-control and I rewarded her with another substantial offering of cum. Her fingers teased my balls as she swallowed. I sighed meaningfully as I scooped up my winnings.

"Damn, dude, I didn't know winning was so exciting for you," John joked, and several guys sniggered. I smirked and began stacking the chips.

My wife surfaced beside me, taking her place over my shoulder again. Her lithe, half-naked body glistened lightly in sweaty arousal, and I could smell her pussy barely six inches away. I had no doubt Mike could, too.

"Anyone need a refill?" I asked, and a couple did. Soundlessly my wife left the room.