Sandrines Bet Ch 04

Author's Note

Please refer to either of the first two chapters for the Author's Note.

*

When we entered the living room every eye was on Sandrine. We took a position standing together in back of the nearer love seat. The living room was as it had been: the seating arranged in three sides, the coffee table in the middle of everything. The only difference was that from the edges of the seating to the wall in back of where Sandrine had danced the floor was covered with bed sheets. As messy as things might get if Sandrine did this the hard way, there didn't seem much danger of damaging messes. The entire house was laminate flooring, just area rugs, so no carpeting to stain or clean. Still, the sheets covering a large part of the floor were ominous. Maybe that's one of the things Danielle had in mind.

Danielle was now at the point where she was taking her duties as a master of ceremonies way too seriously, enjoying it way too much, and milking it for every little thing she could do to shame Sandrine.

"So, ready to suck some cock, bitch?" Danielle asked.

She didn't say anything about Sandrine having an opportunity to buy her way out of it. I was disappointed at that until I realized that Danielle was just playing with Sandrine. I'm sure she was still planning to offer some horrendous way to get out of giving a roomful of men oral sex. But she wanted Sandrine to have to bring the subject up: make her rival speak the words that might lead to a safe path out of the minefield. To Danielle I supposed it was the next best thing to making her beg.

"You said, um....." Sandrine began. Danielle knew exactly the subject Sandrine was trying to bring up.

"I'm sorry," Danielle said, "did you have a question?"

Sandrine's jaw flexed and she looked up. "You said there might be a way I could buy my way out of the oral sex."

Danielle made a show of pretending now to recall. "Oh, yeah, I did say something about that, now didn't I?"

"May I hear what it is?"

Danielle laughed. "Hear what what is?"

Sandrine sighed impatiently. "May I please hear what I would have to do to avoid having to satisfy my bet by performing oral sex on everyone?"

"Well, since you asked so nice, I guess I could run through it. I'm sure you'll find it an attractive alternative. The first thing you're going to do is walk up to me and stand right there." She indicated a piece of floor two feet in front of her. "You're going to look in my eyes, and keep looking in my eyes while you say, 'Danielle, you were right. The Flames are the greatest, and the Stars suck donkey dick.'

"Next you're going to hand me that jersey. I'm going to fold it up nice and neat so that stupid logo is right on top, front and center." She was referring to the symbol on the front of the Stars jersey: some contrived amalgam of a star and a capital D in that weird green. "I'm going to put the jersey on that coffee table. You're going to climb up on the coffee table, squat, and piss on it. And I mean empty your bladder. Then you're going to bring the jersey to me. I'm going to take it out back, put it in the barbecue pit, dump a bottle of lighter fluid on it, and put a match to it. And when all that is done, as far as I'm concerned, your bet is paid in full and you can walk out of here free and clear. See how easy?"

The men had gotten a chance to let loose during this set of instruction. If they had to miss out on their blow-jobs this at least was some prime entertainment, even better than what they could find in the tittie bars. Their cheers and whistles reached a crescendo when Danielle went over the part about wetting the jersey. Watching the American bitch squat and piss on top of a coffee table seemed to be right up their alley.

I'd been right: completely over the top. The words were the least of it. Squat and pee while a roomful of men look on? Yeah, that would be tough. The jersey? Shit, she could get another. It made sense to me that this was by far the easier path. That's what I thought, but my opinion was immaterial. I hoped Sandrine would see it that way and go for it. I wanted to try to talk her into it, but I wouldn't do that here in front of everyone, and she wouldn't want me to. Please, just go for it, Sandrine.

Everyone waited on her decision. She stood there with her head down and her jaw flexing. It seemed like a long time, but was probably just a few seconds.

Then Sandrine moved around the love seat and meekly minced up to Danielle. I've seldom felt such relief. Thank God! She was going to do it and get the hell out of Dodge.

When Sandrine was in position she raised her face and looked in Danielle's eyes.

She cleared her throat and said, "Danielle, I was right. The Stars are the greatest, and the Flames suck donkey dick. So, fuck you, cunt."

I rolled my eyes. There was an immense ovation from the room. Sandrine had certainly made the decision they were hoping for.

Danielle got that radiant smile on her face again. "Well, it looks like somebody is just dying to suck lots of cock. My, you sure do like to use that c-word!"

"Only about you, cunt," Sandrine answered.

Danielle let loose a laugh. "You made the right decision as far as I'm concerned, slut. Think so, boys?" There was another deafening cheer from the room. "Okay, so get naked again."

Sandrine stripped her jersey off, tossed it to me, and was in just her panties. Her hands moved to the waistband but hesitated.

"Hey, Danielle....." Sandrine began. She used her hands to indicate her panties, ".....this is only going to involve my mouth."

"So you have a request to make?" Danielle knew exactly what Sandrine was asking, but again chose to make her choke out every humiliating word. "If you do, be sure ask nicely."

Sandrine sighed. "Danielle, this is only going to involve my mouth. May I please just leave my panties on?"

Danielle, along with the rest of the room, was off into another fit of laughter. When she began to settle down she said, "No, you can't. Get 'em off, cocksucker."

Sandrine did as she was told and tossed the panties to me.

"Look, Danielle," Sandrine said, "I really need to pay the rent on the beer."

"Oh! Sounds like another request!" Danielle answered. "Remember to ask politely."

Sandrine rolled her eyes and said, "Danielle, I have to pee pretty bad. May I please use the bathroom before we get started?"

The laughter was much shorter this time. "No, you may not. But hold that thought, would you?"

Danielle walked into the kitchen, and we soon heard the sounds of her going through the door to the garage. She was in there for more than a full minute. Apparently, whatever she wanted she had to search for.

When she returned she had some sort of plastic container with her. It took a moment, but then I recognized it as one of those one quart paint containers, the type with a handle that you can carry in one hand like a coffee mug with a small brush in the other hand to do touchups or small areas like trim.

Danielle placed the container on the coffee table.

"You need to piss, you can squat and piss right there and in that. It's the last chance you'll get until you've sucked every cock, so unless you want to let go with a cock in your mouth I suggest you take advantage of my generosity."

Sandrine closed her eyes and said, "Fuck."

Danielle immediately grabbed the container back. "Now that wasn't at all polite! What a way to reward my munificence."

That got me to turn my head. I hadn't imagined Danielle would know a word that big. Maybe she'd read it in the Reader's Digest vocabulary builder when she was a kid and it just stuck.

Sandrine closed her eyes again and balled her fists at her sides.

"Thank you, Danielle. Would you please allow me to relieve myself?"

The smile was back, and I'd noticed that Danielle and Keith were now using that same smile in synch since Sandrine had reappeared from the bedroom.

"No. Don't you remember? I said you may not use the bathroom."

Sandrine knew what Danielle wanted her to say. It was like pulling a needle through her cheek but she finally said, "Danielle, may I please climb up on the coffee table, squat over that cup, and pee?"

"Why, yes you may, since you stated the request so courteously."

Danielle replaced the container on the coffee table. I had to hand it to her. She'd gotten Sandrine to go for the blow-jobs, but had still maneuvered her into a humiliating pee in front of everyone.

Sandrine's head was down as she mounted the coffee table. She lowered herself and came to rest over the container, all the way down on her shins with her feet and knees on the table. She began to reach under herself to find the container. The position was as modest as she could use and still do what she had to do.

"No, no, no," Danielle said. "No good. I said squat. Get off your knees. Maybe some of these boys aren't familiar yet with how girls pee, and I'm sure they'd like a good look. Oh, and make sure it all goes in the cup. Anything on the table when you're done you're cleaning up with your tongue."

Sandrine came up higher, her knees now above the table and spread wide. Again she reached under herself and located the cup. Then she reached in with her other hand to spread herself. In spite of that, she started off a little wild and I saw a stream of pee run down the outside of the container, making a small puddle about two inches in diameter that beaded on the polished surface.

After that her stream was strong, and the guys laughed uproariously as we heard her pee hitting the plastic. Then the container began to fill and the sound changed to liquid into liquid. Sandrine's face was red, and bent toward the table top, her lips pressed tightly together. The stream seemed to go on and on, and the sound began to change to the higher pitched tone of liquid getting toward the top of a vessel. Finally, her stream ended with a couple of short shots. The men applauded with gusto.

Sandrine came up and stepped off the table. She had the container in her hand, brought it to Danielle and handed it to her.

"Danielle, may I please have some paper to clean myself."

Danielle laughed again briefly. "Haven't you gotten the idea yet that the answer is no? Listen, whore, you're gonna be a walking pile of cum in just a little while. What's the point? Oh, and....." Danielle gestured toward the table.

Sandrine hadn't known that everything had not gone in the cup. She turned to look, and her shoulders sagged.

"Goddamn it, Danielle! Come on! Please don't! You goddamn cunt!"

For the first time the laughs and good nature left Danielle. Her face took on a hard expression and she said, "I'm getting a little tired of hearing that c-word. I said if you spilled you clean it up with your tongue. You remember our little wager: I get to humiliate you any way I like, and right now that's the way I like. Now go do it!"

Sandrine hesitated, but then turned and took the few steps to the coffee table. She dropped to her knees and brought her head close to the tabletop. She hesitated again, but in a moment her face was to the table, her tongue came out, and she lapped up the urine. She had a sour look on her face as she came again to her feet.

"Euw, yuck! That must leave a bad taste in your mouth. But don't worry, you'll soon have a cum chaser," Danielle said.

Applause and hoots again were loud, as much in response to Danielle's little joke as Sandrine's performance. Danielle took the container into the kitchen and placed it on a counter.

When Danielle walked back into the room her smile was again on her face.

"Well, time for the main event, eh?" she said enthusiastically. I noticed that when she returned from the kitchen she had a coil of smooth, black rope in her hand.

Sandrine had walked over to stand by me. Now Danielle crooked a finger to beckon her. I gave her a squeeze and she put a quick kiss on my lips. Sandrine walked over to Danielle. The two of them stood where Sandrine had danced.

"You haven't really fallen for that, have you Michael?" said Danielle. "You think you're going to have something with this slut? Don't you get it? She thinks she needs you right now, and as soon as she doesn't you'll be history. She's nothing but a fucking cock teaser. So don't let her tease yours. But if you want to fool yourself then I guess it's best that you got a kiss in now. After I get done with her she's going to be nothing but a walking cum mop."

Danielle turned her attention to Sandrine and took hold of her face with a thumb on one side and her fingers on the other, squeezing her mouth into a pucker.

"Time to get this hot little mouth fucked, slut. So I guess you know where you belong, right?"

Sandrine looked away and closed her eyes.

I tried to imagine how hard this must be for her. She was an executive with a major corporation in a day and age when in a setting like that even the hint of sexual disrespect was not tolerated. She was a valued member of a management team, esteemed for her deep knowledge of a traditionally male industry. Sandrine was accustomed to being treated with respect and even some deference.

Now here she found herself: naked in a roomful of fully clothed people, all but one of them men. Sandrine had to be aware of the difference in authority and status between her naked self and the clothed woman standing before her.

That was only the half of it, though.

Maybe this is not such a nice thing to say or observe, but I've been to lunch or dinner with Sandrine many times, alone or with a group from work. Frankly, she can be more than a bit of a haughty dick with people like wait staff. She tends to be curt and demanding with them, and doesn't hesitate to criticize service she thinks is below par. Even when she has no complaints she's still a crappy tipper. On many occasions I've left an absurdly large tip to make up for Sandrine's cheesy one, just so the next time we got that wait person we wouldn't get our drinks spit in.

I remember when I was introduced to Danielle. Like Keith, she was in her mid-thirties, five years or more older than Sandrine. She worked as some sort of secretary or executive assistant. All fine, and I believe in the dignity of any honest work, but were she in a position like that with our company she would be making coffee, or answering phones, or making sure Sandrine's information folder for a meeting was positioned just so on the polished table before her seat.

Sandrine isn't overly obvious about the issue, but she has a sense for status and power: where it lies and where it doesn't. Were Danielle working in our section, Sandrine would treat her professionally. But there would be no question who was the boss and the level of performance the boss expected. More than a few of our female administrative assistants have spent half an hour in the ladies room crying after a run-in with Sandrine when the execution of their duties had been less than stellar..

On this afternoon, though, it was Danielle who gave the orders and Sandrine who had to obey and fulfill them. And woe to Sandrine if she didn't demonstrate complete obsequiousness and deference.

I knew Sandrine was acutely aware that the fully-clothed woman she now stood nude before might be considered as at a lower level of professional status and attainment: a distinction of no importance to many, but of great significance to Sandrine. As Sandrine stood there, having that woman unsubtly suggest she belonged on her knees, I could see her jaw tighten and flex, her teeth grinding. Her mind would be filled with the knowledge that she was expected to kneel so this woman could begin to abase and humiliate her, and she had no choice but to comply. The next hours were going to be bad enough, but Danielle had the power to make them much worse if Sandrine didn't knuckle under.

There were a hundred waitresses, waiters, clerks, and working stiffs in the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex that would happily pay any admission price to witness this degradation of the bitch in the business suit with the mouth and the attitude and the tight purse.

The men - sitting at their ease, pulling on their beers, and taking in Sandrine's nakedness - had to be aware of the power dynamics at play. Had any of them been treated less than well, been unmanned, by some female manger somewhere along the line? Who hadn't? Now they got to not only watch the shaming and humiliation of some managerial bitch but got to participate by sexually using her. I wondered what face any of them might be seeing on the nude form in front of them in place of Sandrine's, and whose mouth they'd imagine they were shoving their cock into when the time came.

All of this flashed through my mind in a moment: an instinctive knowledge. Sandrine's eyes opened and they fixed on the coil of rope in Danielle's hand. She knew what was coming and knew she was powerless to stop it.

"Well?" Danielle said.

Sandrine's eyes closed again. She dropped her head, her lips pressed together, her shoulders hunched. Then she slowly and subserviently sank to her knees.

"Oh, much better!" Danielle enthused. "Okay, let's get you trussed up and get this party started!" Danielle sounded almost manic in her delight.

For a moment I was relieved. It seemed Sandrine was going to accept the demeanor of the beaten and submissive loser; she would bite back her pride and let Danielle rule her long enough to get done in the easiest way possible and get out of here. Like before, when I'd thought Sandrine had taken the easier way to get out of the blow-jobs, my relief was short lived.

"You know, you don't have to tie me. I'm willing to do what I have to do. God, you're a cunt," Sandrine spat. Her incredulity and shame and loathing of being in this subservient position just couldn't stay behind her lips, and Sandrine had unwisely let the comment escape.

Shit! Couldn't she just cork it long enough to make this only bad rather than horrendously bad?

Danielle came to her knees and slapped Sandrine hard across the face. The report was loud in the silent room. Sandrine's head turned at the impact. She slowly brought her face forward again. Danielle slapped her hard a second time, now in the other direction. Sandrine's face went the other way and I heard a single sob. Danielle spoke to her harshly.

"Don't let me hear that word again." Then her demeanor changed and she was smiling. Her moods seemed like they could change on a dime. "I'm not tying you because I think I have to. I'm tying you because I want to. I think it will make this so much more fun. Now don't disobey me or talk back to me again. Understand?"

Sandrine looked down, unwilling to meet Danielle's eyes. She said nothing.

"I asked you if you understood you're to obey me and not talk back. Answer."

Sandrine looked at Danielle's knees, her face forward.

We all heard the resounding smack as Danielle again slapped Sandrine's face, and Sandrine gasp in disbelief.

"You're getting slapped until I get an answer. Just to make sure we both understand who's in charge here. And, honey, I'm happy to stay right here and slap you all night. Now, you got an answer for me?"

"Yes," Sandrine whispered.

"What? I didn't hear you. Louder. Look me in the eyes and make sure you address me in a way that I'll approve of."

Sandrine was again silent. Danielle pulled back her hand. Sandrine brought her head up quickly and cleared her throat. She made eye contact with Danielle, her chin trembling, and said in a compliantly loud voice, "Yes.....yes, ma'am."

Danielle got that smile on her face again.

When Danielle spoke again she was still addressing Sandrine, but was also speaking to the room at large.

"Well, that's better. That took a hell of a lot of effort because you're so fucking stupid, but I hope you've finally figured out what your place is. I'm tying you because I feel like it. But I also want you good and tight and on your knees. I don't want you giving out blow-jobs. I want these boys to be able to use your mouth like a pus.....well, like a.....what's that word you like so much?..... cunt? I want them to be able to use your mouth like a cunt. Got it, cunt?"