You Lost, Didn’t You?
Chapter One
“You lost, didn’t you, Chad?”
“Yes, Amber, I did.”
“You didn’t think I could beat you, did you?”
No, I hadn’t thought she could beat me or I would never have bet so foolishly. I had
been roommates with hot foxy Amber for almost a year and for almost a year I had been
trying to get in her pants without success. We were both members of the same club that
catered to alternative lifestyles, which is how I came to move in with her. We were both
Tops but I was sure that if I could have her under my thumb for a week I could bring out
the slave girl I was convinced was lurking inside.
Then I found what I was certain was a sure thing. I had been so positive that I would
win I had insisted on a punitive bet. I had been so wrapped up in salivating about having
her at my beck and call, my slave for a week or more, that it had shocked me to my core
when she won. Even now the implications hadn’t completely sunken in.
“No, Amber, I didn’t,” I finally answered.
“So, are you going to honor the terms?”
“Amber I…”
“Is that a no, Chad?”
“I…”
“Because if it is I want to remind you how our circle of friends is going to react to
you backing out.”
“But, Amber…”
“After all, Chad, it was you who insisted on telling everyone, wasn’t it?”
She was right. I did insist because I had been certain that I was going to win and I
wanted to make sure that she couldn’t back out. The group we ran with took something like
this very seriously. There was no faster way to becoming an invisible person than to welsh
on a bet, especially one with servitude involved. If I didn’t serve as her salivating
slave-boy for a week I would never be able to go into our fetish club again much less get
a crack at some girl who might want to be my slave. I was fucked but my mind wouldn’t
leave it alone. I wasn’t some wimpy sub and the thought of having to act like one for a
week was disgusting.
“Amber, can we talk about this?” I asked.
“What is there to talk about, Chad?”
“I’m sorry I made the bet like I did,” I said. “I thought…what I mean is that the idea
of you serving as slave girl just made sense to me because I think you have these
tendencies and…”
“Tendencies?” she said incredulously. “You think I have submissive tendencies?”
“Yes, I do.”
“And you don’t?” she snapped.
“No, of course not,” I said indignantly.
“I guess we’ll see, won’t we, Chad?” she said.
“Amber, can’t we change the…uh…”
“No, we can’t,” she said flatly.
“But…”
“Let me ask you something, Chad. Would you have forced me to be your little slave-girl
for a week if you had won?”
“Well, of course,” I answered, “but that’s because…”
“Because you’re an arrogant asshole who thinks because I’m laid back that I must not be
the hard-assed Domme that I really am.”
“Look, Amber…”
“Look, asshole,” she interrupted, “I’m going to sit down on the couch and in two minutes
I’m going to lift my legs. When I put them down they had better be resting on your naked
back or my next act will be to call the club and start the process of turning you into a
non-entity.”
“Amber, please. I’ll do anything, please.”
“Yes you will.”
“What?”
“Chad, the two minutes start now,” she said sitting down on the couch.
I walked into my bedroom and spent the first thirty seconds trying to figure a way out
of the box I had put myself into. There wasn’t one and I knew it but my mind raged on.
Finally I reluctantly pulled my clothes off but I still couldn’t bring myself to debase
myself in front of her.
I peeked out the door. She was sitting on the couch reading a magazine. With only twenty
seconds left in the two minute window she reached out and picked up her cell phone. With
ten seconds left she lifted her legs. I dropped to my hands and knees and managed to get
under her legs just as they came down.
“Good choice, Chad.”
I hated it. This was pure bullshit. I had lived with her for a year and I’d never even
seen one of her breasts, and yet here I was naked with her legs resting on my back. She
put her cell phone down, picked up her magazine and resumed reading. For the next hour I
played footstool while she read and ignored me.
I tried to keep my mind in neutral but little things kept interfering. Some of them were
subtle like the hint of her perfume that wafted in and out of my awareness from time to
time or the flash of her panties in my peripheral vision as she shifted her legs. Others
were more direct like her damn foot that caressed my ass lightly and her provoking habit
of leaning down and brushing her lips on my cheek when she had something to say. All of
them were arousing. All of them got me excited and my penis was giving it away. She
noticed.
“It seems like little Chad boy likes being a footstool,” Amber gushed, running her hands
between my legs and discovering my raging erection. “A lot.”
I wiggled and tried to keep my penis away from her but it just wound her up. She got her
hand wrapped around my member and began to squeeze it. I couldn’t help myself. I started
fucking her hand.
“Just like a little doggy, aren’t we, Chad?” she teased.
I didn’t care how degrading she was making it for me I needed to spurt. I increased my
hip motion. I could feel it starting. Oh my…
“No pleasure for you, Chad,” she said removing her hand and ruining what had promised to
be a great one.
“Amber, please,” I begged, moving my right hand to my dick to finish what she had
started.
“Remove your hand,” she ordered grabbing my balls and squeezing to make sure I obeyed.
I whimpered and let go of my cock. She kept squeezing.
“You can’t leave that little thing alone, can you?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said.
“I hear you every night, Chad, sometimes three and four times,” she laughed.
“Shit! She could hear me?”
“All that grunting and groaning you do is pretty disgusting actually,” she said, “but
you won’t be doing any of that for a while.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, frightened by this turn of conversation.
“I don’t allow my slaves to masturbate, Chad,” she said. “You know that.”
I didn’t really know that but I had suspected it. The few times she had let one of her
fawning minions stay over I could feel the frustration oozing out of every pore and the
sounds that came from her room after they had retired didn’t ever contain any masculine
cries of delight.
“In fact I very seldom allow them any relief at all,” she continued, “and then only
accompanied with humiliation, like sucking or fucking each other.”
I shuddered at that one. Then I shuddered again when I realized that the bitch intended
to keep me horny and unfulfilled all week.
“Amber,” I said as calmly as I could, “I’m not one of your slaves who gets off on not
being able to have orgasms. You can’t keep me frustrated all week.”
“I can,” she said smugly.
“Amber,” I wailed.
“But I probably won’t if you’re obedient,” she added.
“Thank you,” I said sincerely.
“Oh, I wouldn’t thank me just yet,” she giggled, “because if I do let you have a spurt
it will be under the same terms I let all of my boys go.”
“You mean I will have to suck some guy’s dick?” I asked appalled.
“Oh, no,” she chuckled, “that goes without saying. All of my slaves suck dick and you
won’t be any different. I meant your relief will be humiliating.”
“Amber I…”
“Enough talking,” she interrupted, “all of this has me worked up so, lucky you, after
all of this time of living with me you are finally going to see my pussy…up close and
personal.”
She skinned her panties off, spread her legs and used my hair to pull my face into her
cunt. My mouth reacted involuntarily. Hours spent between an old girlfriend’s legs who
particularly liked oral sex had trained me well. I made her scream.
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