Cliché Comes True

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She thrashes him at cards - and might thrash him for real.
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ex_riter
ex_riter
14 Followers

Smiling cheekily, her gorgeous eyes sparkling, she winked and said, "You know I can't pass up a classic cliché – especially one with a double entendre."

The comment was gratuitous, of course. First, because we'd been together just about long enough for me to know that about her. More importantly, there was the pattern of play on this particular afternoon. Especially this current hand.

"No-no," she'd wagged a finger, holding out the wineglass in the other hand for me to top up, "with your current IOUs if I was a loanshark I'd be breaking your legs. Table stakes only. We agreed that from the outset today."

I figured I knew what she meant but it was always best to ask. Returning the wine bottle to the ice bucket, I said, "What constitutes Table Stakes?"

"Anything you care to actually put on the table. If I like whatever it is, I'll make an offer to cover it."

Yes, there was a double entendre in there – and a twinkle in her eye. "An being the key word."

"Of course," she confirmed.

"As in one offer."

"Of course. After all, you're not exactly in a position to negotiate."

See what I was up against? She wasn't just funny, and witty, and extremely attractive – she was ruthless. Sipping my own wine, to moisten my throat, I set aside the glass to check my current hand. Two pair – Eights, over Fives. Worse, that was my best hand of the day by quite a bit. So I had to be in-it to win-it, as they say.

So I started to unbutton my shirt. Something she very much enjoyed, judging by the smile. In fact, she waited until I had undone every button and pulled the flaps of the shirt out from under the belt and my jeans. So that the whole shirt was open and hanging down my hips and back.

Only then did she wag a finger again. "No-no, I'm not interested in the shirt...at this point."

Note, please – at this point? "What would you like?"

'That's the spirit," she chuckled. "Ask first."

I waited for the answer.

"Shoes," she said, finally, "No, shoes and socks – you know I think bare feet are sexy."

Doing my shirt back up would've been, you know, churlish – and, given her mindset overall, probably punishable in some diabolical manner. So I slipped off first my right shoe, and after a moment's hesitation to decide the next move, the right sock – then the left shoe and sock.

She insisted they actually go on the table. Of course.

Then she 'covered' with a $5 chip and raised a $2 chip. Ridiculous, since she had '$150' or so in chips in front of her.

At that rate... deciding WTF, I unbelted, unbuckled and slipped off my jeans. And would've removed my slightly askew briefs but once again she wagged the finger. Insisted I put the jeans on the table, with the belt only.

Then she covered it, with the same Check and Raise as the shoes and socks.

Then she wanted my briefs, separately...

I loved this, ladies. Perfect. He has a great cock – seriously cute. That lovely long curve shape and big enough I could spread my full hand from just above his balls and not reach the quivering tip. And in his current state with the shirt tacky from the perspiration and sticking to his flesh – and with it opened a good 6 inches from top to bottom, putting that lovely cock in a superb frame, and... Can't you just picture it? I mean, well, yummm. If I hadn't resolved to teach him a lesson I'd've been off my own stool there and then and riding him like a bicycle.

But I had so resolved.

And it was important.

You see, we are a new couple but mature-ish in age. We both have back stories, of course, and we both have some habits and patterns...and, well, he wasn't a 'reno' exactly, but he needed to come to heel in some areas: especially in his gambling.

Besides, the situation was too hot to waste.

When he started to peel off the shirt, I quickly lowered my wineglass from my lips and wagged my finger.

Imagine: all you have to do is wag your finger and he winces, AND his cock twitches. He is beyond bluffing. In fact, given that we were playing poker he was de facto utterly unable to defend himself.

No reason you can't explore, and teach a lesson at the same time. That's part of my back story. Get him by the balls and squeeze. It's great fun.

"No-no," I said, watching every square inch of him flash crimson, "We're going to put the shirt back – that flap, the one in your hand, a few inches out," I gestured with the hand holding the glass, " A little further..."

When his cock did another little quiver, I had a tug so hard from the rings-and-folds I had to control my breathing for a moment...

She was going to screw me. Part of me knew that now, for sure. Sitting there all but stark naked, and certainly fully exposed, while she was fully dressed: the eyes dancing in mischievous mode. With only a weak two pair between me and whatever diabolical plot she was hatching. Part of me also knew that the hand was irrelevant – that she was eventually only going to let me, at some time entirely of her choosing, fold. NO – that she was going force me to fold!

Alarms bells rang then...but seemed to recede, yet again, as they had several times already.

Fact one: I was much too horny to think clearly. That concept I could hang onto, for several seconds every so often. Then it too dissipated in the haze around me.

Fact two: I was this horny because of the sheer, well, 'edginess' really...because I simply didn't know her well enough yet. I knew she would exploit my predicament. I knew her will enough to know she would be ruthless. I just didn't know her well enough, yet, to know how 'far' she would go.

So the mix was intoxicating. Truly. Part of me was screaming 'get out!-fold now!' – but the bigger part of me was saying 'don't be silly-let's see what she's got'. And inevitably I would settle the debate along the lines of 'so long as you don't actually lose the shirt – and fulfill the cliché...you know, it should be okay'

So when she wagged her finger to prevent me from removing my shirt, my heart jumped – and so did my engorged cock. Even when she was directing me to replace the shirt and adjust it just so – and I realized she had something in mind she considered much more fun, for her at least, than merely taking my shirt – and that she was probably going to truly screw me, somehow...

"Hello."

I snapped back to the present.

"Bottom button. No-no!' the finger wagged, "Don't block my view..."

It was lovely watching him struggle. Wriggle physically, to remove the button without his hand or hands getting between his yummy cock and my eyes – and seethe mentally, trying to work out my next move and what to do to get out his predicament.

"Uh-uh, hands clear."

I mean it, ladies. His cock wasn't just seriously cute...it was big. Long enough so it stretched up beyond his navel. Beyond his navel by the full inch-plus of the engorged cut tip. A side benefit of which was that when he couldn't wrench loose the bottom-most button with just his right hand he also couldn't reach across with his left hand to steady the shirt fabric without blocking part of my view.

Okay, it was only a fleeting, fraction of a centimeter blocking of the view. But it was enough. Enough for me to use a sharp tone;

And then relish the way his hands snapped away in opposite directions. And the way his cock stood up there rolling, and quivering. And the fresh perspiration.

And the simple realization that I owned him. Completely.

The realization that he wouldn't even question me now. That he wouldn't risk it. That I could say he'd blocked my view and he'd accept it without question. And he's accept any instruction to follow. And also any punishment I chose to impose?

Sipping my wine, because my own throat was dry – and my breathing a little shallow, I decided to test the theory. "What punishment do you think I should demand?"

There was a fresh burst of heat on his face and, well, his body.

And a fresh little ooze of pre-cum.

So it was true! I DID own his ass...and the rest. Resisting the urge to smile, I said, "Tell you what, I'll take the two TOP button. Quickly though. Don't make me wait."

He reacted instantly. Leaning back in the stool, figuring out he had to keep his left elbow high to be well clear – and learning that he couldn't pop one button with each hand, and that he had to start again – both hands going first to the top button then to the next...

I was feeling the hum from deep inside now...and the wetness increasing dramatically...

I finally freed the second button. Starting to reach out with them, for her, I got a quick silent wag of the finger. My right hand moved almost behind my back, seemingly on its own, while my left hand, containing the buttons, described a very wide arc.

"I love how exposed you are right now."

Apparently it was true. Not only were the eyes positively dancing but she took her sweet time before extending her free hand, palm up, to receive the buttons.

"I;m not going to cover these. I'm simply going to accept them as punishment tokens."

Punishment!?

"Don't bother to ask," she chuckled. "They'll be worth whatever I say, whenever I say. Third button down, please. Now."

Closing my mouth, I went to work. Making sure to be well clear of blocking her view. Which made it all very awkward. Part of me once again started shouting, 'Fold, now! Fold' – but of course it was drowned out. And when she had the third button, she Covered and Raised with the usual chip combo. And again she Covered and Raised, same combo, for the fourth button.

And you need to understand all of this was happening in slow motion. So every movement was very clear in the moment, but hard to remember once the action had moved on...

The silence was a spell. Remarkable. He was breath-catchingly gorgeous. Utterly obedient. When the hum surged once again into my consciousness, I said, "I love how exposed you are at this moment.'

His head snapped up, eyes panic-ridden. "I'll try to get the bottom two, I really well. And I'll be quick."

I didn't reply. Merely cocked an eyebrow and sipped my wine.

He started to cross over the left hand. I had to wait, consciously, count one, two – because I didn't want to risk...well, what I had in mind. Then I couldn't wait any longer. "No-no," I wagged the finger sharply.

He sat back instantly.

He'd been nowhere near blocking my view – but that didn't matter now. I wagged the finger again. "Feet apart...on the tabletop...far as they'll go."

Wow! Gorgeous. On a whim I grabbed up my iphone and snapped three quick pix – full face, full body, lovely cock in full focus...pre-cum oozing, glistening.

"I'm not..."

"Shhh!" To punish him, I said smile then took two more pix. The strain in his smile was almost the most exciting thing I'd seen all day. Almost. When he didn't move for the buttons, I snapped another pic, then another.

Then he moved and angled the cam down enough to get just from the nipples to the splayed knees...all the while thinking, one set for me one for the girls... whoever the ladies may prove to be.

Then I called him out. "No, no, no," and I went on snapping as he slumped back in the chair. Now I could see all of both nipples and the shirt had disappeared.

He was, I know – I know, but it's worth repeating... gorgeous.

"May I surrender the shirt?"

What a good idea! – what a very good idea. But I made him wait, sweat, evade my gaze, while I smiled and sipped my wine. Until I was good and ready. "You know how I feel about the cliché connected to losing your shirt?"

He nodded.

"So you know the term surrender is apt?...because it will be unconditional."

He nodded again. Anxious now to please.

"So it will be whatever I say, whenever I say it," I paused a half beat, "For as I long as I choose."

He needed a drink. Took one, a deep swallow draining his glass.

I took full advantage again. "Repeat after me. IOU my ass, cock, balls and all other parts and pieces connected to my person. You may do with any or all of them as you choose, whenever you choose wherever you choose for as long as you choose..."

And he actually said it. Word for word.

Damn right I said it. Every word. Knowing full well she using the vid to record the words while capturing every pulse and movement of engorged cock.

And I let her take more pix.

"Just slip off the shirt, that's right down and back – take your time. Good. Done this for other women, have you? Lovely. These are for the girls, of course. Don't rush." I'd switched the sound on, so he could hear each loud CLICK. "So we'll keep it to your best bits. Although I do have the face pix if pushed..."

It was all a bit of a blur, of course. Panicked-horny- terrified...horny.

"...I do love the way...keep those abs tight...I do love the way it pulses and twitches and quivers, and, umh, those delicious little oozes of pre-cum..."

I was stretching every sinew, trying desperately not to cum.

"...Have you ever been flogged. You know, floggers, crops, lovely little cock floggers...Do you prefer cock or penis btw? Tell me.

"Cock."

"Naked or nude?"

"Either."

"Wrong answer." The cam came up to include my face as well. Cick. Click. Click. Back down. "Keep those abs taut. I'm going to enjoy this – I don't know about you. Shirt right off..."

I hefted my tush, everything going taut now as the clicks continued and the shirt dropped.

The cliché was complete...

Owned, ladies. Owned. Completely. Listen to this, while the shirt dropped away and I kept snapping pix. "Good...so I'm going to call it your penis, and your ass...and you're going without clothes full stop for some time so I won't need the term there... they'll have crops and floggers and things here in Vegas, won't they...?" He actually said they should have, although in fairness his voice was a bit strained.

He didn't sound the least unwilling however. Not to my hearing.

He certainly didn't look unwilling.

"I'm going to tie you up. Then I'm going to put some of these pix on the web. Oh, there's a nice one, "and it was," and then I'm going to go out and play some poker since I'm on a streak, and then I'm going to buy some toys – some floggers, crops etc. But first, you're going to tell me about the first time you were flogged. All the sordid details. Did she focus on your ass?...did she get you on that lovely cut penis?...hands back here."

And the phone face up on the table, where he was looking at an excellent pic of his penis and balls and abs. And I used a tie from one of the hotel robes – the one I'd been wearing to fasten his hands together behind the chair back.

Before giving him one long super slow stroke: down to his quivering balls and back to the equally animated tip. Then I nibbled his earlobe and whispered: "When you get free I want the story, the whole story – every sordid detail."

I left the room and the suite then, licking the fingertip I'd dipped in the pre-cum...

ex_riter
ex_riter
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AnonymousAnonymousalmost 8 years ago
I love how exposed you are right now

Perfect line!

Especially as my partner was starkers and sitting naked on the table amidst the carnage of cards and chips and his discarded clothes when he read me the story.

I'm assuming you put breaks in between the POV shifts...?

Doesn't matter as much when it's being read TO you, but it's a shame the breaks aren't more clear for the readers

Sequel please....

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 8 years ago
Love to know what happens

When she gets back from shopping...

Nothing better than a good story well told.

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