Disciplines of the Game

I need you. And I can tell you need me.

We sit at a small table near an out-of-town bar, up front near the windows. It's a warm summer night, and after an evening stroll we have ducked into this place for a small bite and the cool AC. The black bar stretches halfway down the establishment, century-old wood and craftsmanship floor to ceiling. The dim overhead lighting leads past the small tables opposite the bar to a short hallway on the right for restrooms, and a gaming room at the back. The rock and alternative music blares from the speakers, and three televisions silently broadcast various sports games, their LED glow bathing you from behind.

We finish our burgers and pay the check as we talk and laugh and joke with one another, occasionally leaning across our food to kiss yet again. And each time you lean across, I imagine what glimpses the other people in the bar might be stealing. After all, you aren't wearing a lot - black sandals with a black half t-shirt and khaki shorts that barely conceal the bra and panties beneath them. Are they seeing your bra? The bottom line of your panties? The curve of your inner thighs as they blend into the bottom edge of your ass?

I mention these thoughts to you after our latest kiss, and you smile, a cocky glint in your eye.

"You'd love that, wouldn't you," you say.

"I would," I say, kissing you again. "I'd also love to bend you over this table and spank you."

You lock eyes with me. "Mmmmm. Promises, promises."

I grin. "My little slut wants to play."

You push your chair back and stand to lean closer to me, your ass high in the air, allowing your shirt to purposely hang low. You whisper in my ear, "Yes, sir."

The crack of a billiards break snags your attention, and you look over your shoulder to the back room. A couple of men stand at the table, one of them lining up his first shot.

"Care for a little game?" I say.

Your head swings back round to me, the corner of your mouth turning upward. "I gotta pee first."

I smile. "Yeah, me too."

You grab your purse and phone off the table and make your way back. I'm not far behind, watching the way your body moves - easy and fluid - as you thread your way through the patrons. The sight of your bare legs and midriff, the pulse of a bass drum through the speakers, and another - Crack! - from the pool table sets my mind thrumming: There is definitely something here; a game to be played. My cock stiffens as you make the turn towards the bathroom.

The hallway jogs to the left. You close the door to one restroom. The other is occupied. So, I wait.

It's a dark hallway, just one incandescent high above. An exit door sits at the far end. The two bathroom doors are on the left and, opposite the doors, a three-foot wide benched recess. It's framed - like a window long since walled over. A perfect place for a drunken bit of making out. I observe the upper corner of the hallway, just above the jog, and spy the security camera looking down. I ponder the many hot little scenes it's been privy to.

My thoughts are interrupted as a woman exits the second bathroom. I enter, and when I emerge, drying my hands with a paper towel, your bathroom door is open and you are nowhere to be seen.

I find you at the entrance to the gaming room, leaning on the large folding doors which have been pushed open to the far wall. Your eyes are on the two men playing pool. One in jeans and sneakers with a white, short-sleeve collared shirt also wears a silver chain that grazes the table as he takes his shot - and misses. The other, in gray cargo shorts and a black polo, laughs. I slide in behind you, drape my arms across your chest, kiss your ear.

"Still care for a game?"

You laugh and answer without turning, eyes on the table. "You know you can't beat me."

I love when you are like this. Cocky. Self-assured. Your confidence is exhilarating.

It also makes you reckless.

Crack! The man in the black polo sinks a ball and circles the table, looking for his next shot. My voice is low, almost a growl. "What if there was a wager?"

You stiffen ever so slightly, your breath catches. It's only for a split second, but I know you. I can also feel your pulse skip beneath my fingers.

"What sort of wager?"

I wrap you closer in my arms, hands on your breasts, gentle but firm.

"That you play - and beat - one of these gentlemen. Your choice. You can best me nearly every time; surely you can beat one of them."

Crack! He sinks another and runs a hand through his dark curly hair as the man with the silver chain groans.

Very slowly, almost imperceptibly, I circle my palms on your nipples. You breathe in through your nose, stand straighter.

"Stakes?"

"You win, you get $100 from me. They win, you will expose yourself by removing your bra and giving both the bra and the $100 to them, and.... pay the penalty."

Your eyes close. "Mmmm. What's the penalty?"

"To be decided. But as always, you may stop the play at any time. 'Yellow' to pause, 'Red' to end it."

Crack! The dark haired man curses as the eight ball ricochets early into a pocket.

You giggle and turn your face to me. "Yellow and red noted. But you...," you touch my nose, "... are gonna owe me a hundred bucks." You back away, laughing, then spin round as you approach the table. "Gentlemen! If I may..."

You lower your voice as you speak with them, full of confidence and cock-sure energy. They might think you're driven by liquid confidence, but I know better; you've only had one drink. You are fueled by adrenaline and the thrill of play. Your gregariousness disarms them, but it's your proposal that shocks the smile from their faces. They glance towards me, and I nod. They examine and appraise you from head to foot. The dark haired man says something and reaches out to shake hands. All three of you laugh, and you return to me, giddy.

"Hold onto these will you?" You hand me your phone and purse. "I'll be back soon to put your hundred in there." You kiss me, then laugh as you head to the back wall to choose a cue stick.

The dark haired man gathers the balls and begins to rack them. The man with the chain watches you, curious and aroused, the corner of his mouth turned up in bemusement. He stares at the curve of your ass for a few longing seconds before he notices me watching him and averts his gaze.

I cross and take my seat on a stool next to the miniature bar - a four-foot wide, detached extension of the main bar. Behind it stands a a man in his forties. He is studying the situation before him. His eyes do not leave you as he speaks to me quietly. I respond. He chuckles as you chalk your cue stick.

You share your name with the dark haired gentleman and he replies, "My name's Mark. This is Travis."

"Pleased to meet you, Mark. Travis. I'm sorry I'm going to have to disappoint you." You smile wide, and as you lean forward on the table, your bare midriff presses into the edge. You line up your shot, move your eyes up to meet mine and wink. Then, without averting your gaze, you hit a loud clean break. A striped ball - number 13 - drops into a pocket and you regard Mark.

"Like I said, my apologies in advance." Another smile as you stand the cue stick between your thighs, remove a hair tie from around your wrist, and pull your hair high and back with both arms as you make a ponytail. You know full well that the bottom edge of your bra is visible as you do - stomach stretched, lithe and supple, your rose and skull tattoo just below the ribs on the right enticing us all. You are cockier than I had even anticipated, the glint in your eye giving you away: You think this is a sure thing.

Admittedly, your first four shots have me nervous. Your cue ball rolls perfectly into position after each shot, as always. The first two shots are easy. The third uses one bumper. And your fourth is a masterful shot, banking the two off of a bumper to knock your number fourteen in with precision.

You giggle and watch us. "So easy gentlemen." You squeeze your breasts together mockingly. "It's a shame you won't get to see these." Mark and Travis laugh.

It's on the fifth shot that I see how much you want to play. As you line up, legs stretched, ass facing me, I catch a very slight motion from your hand at the back of the cue stick. It's upside down, but you are signing "I love you" to me. You take your shot, normally an easy one for you, but the number nine evades the pocket by a sliver, and the queue ball travels back across the table and sinks into a pocket.

You look back at me and wink. "Shit," you say.

Mark laughs and steps forward to take his first shot.

Because Mark is equally good at pool, and because your scratch has allowed him to place the cueball where he needs, he sinks his first three just as easily as you. He has no good shot for his fourth, but manages to roll the cueball into a place that makes things very difficult for you. You miss your next shot, and he makes the next two. After Mark sinks his fifth ball, Travis laughs and says, "Look like we got a game here."

"It's possible," says Mark. "Maybe we'll get our little souvenir after all."

You saunter forward to the table and hold Mark's gaze as you lean to take your next shot. You pull the collar of your shirt to one side revealing your bra strap. "This is all you're gonna get to see boys." You wink at them and take the first of three successful turns. Mark shakes his head, resigned. All you have left is the ten and the eight.

You wiggle your hips, hold your cue stick like a dance baton, and spin around on one foot. You sing, "Looks like it's abou-ou-out time to pay uh-uh-up." But before you turn to line up your next shot, it is only I and the bartender standing next to me that see the tip of your tongue taste the bottom of your upper lip. It's a signal to me. You don't want to win; you're begging to lose, but playing the opposite brilliantly.

You lean down, taking more time than usual for such a simple shot. Crack! The ten jets toward the desired pocket but misses, and as the cueball ricochets off a bumper it sends the eight ball into the side pocket.

Travis, Mark and the man sitting off to the side with his beer all cheer as you stare in disbelief. If I didn't know you better, and know how much you want to lose this game, I would think it was an honest mistake. But I do know you. I know your talents with a cue stick. And knocking that eight ball in "accidentally" is the kind of precision shot that keeps me from playing against you anymore.

"Fucking cunt balls!" you cry angrily. "How!? Aarrrrgh!" You wheel around to me. "Double or nothing?"

I consider your offer, but reply, "We have to settle the initial wager first."

You drop your shoulders in resignation. "Okay, okay. That's fair." You reach under your shirt to undo your bra strap. Knowing you're going to remove it without removing your shirt, I stop you.

"Absolutely not."

You raise a questioning eyebrow.

I repeat, "Absolutely not. The wager was... if you lost, you would expose yourself by removing your bra and giving it to them."

"Yes but..."

"Are you refusing?" You set eyes on the bar full of patrons in the next room, eyebrow still raised. I concede your point and turn to the bartender. "Any chance we can close these doors for the moment?"

He nods and smiles. I set your purse, phone, and five crisp $100 bills down on the bar, then cross to the folding doors and pull them closed. "The $500 is for the trouble of keeping them closed, yes?" The bartender nods and pockets the cash.

All eyes turn back to you, and you grin. "A bet's a bet." You grab the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head. Then you regard each of us, one at a time, before reaching behind you and undoing your bra. You pull the straps off of your shoulders and slide your hands down, covering your nipples with one hand as you hand your bra to Mark with the other. He takes it from you, but his eyes do not leave your chest.

He says, "I think the wager was for you to expose yourself while you gave me your bra, yes?" You take a breath, then take your hand away revealing your gorgeous breasts. Your nipples are hard as you pivot in place so everyone can see. I walk to you, hand you a hundred, and you turn to give it to Mark. As he puts it in his wallet, you grab your shirt off of the table and pull it back over your head.

You are a sight to behold. No longer encumbered by the bra, your breasts hang a bit lower. Nothing is exposed, but if you were to raise your arms or stretch forward, anyone in the right place would see the entire bottom of your tits. Coupling that thought with the view of your hard nipples stretching against the black cotton, you are arguably even more desirable in that moment than you were an instant ago when you stood there topless.

"Thank you for the souvenir," says Mark. You grin shyly at him as you walk over to put your cue stick away.

You peer over your shoulder to me. "Happy?" you ask.

"Very," I say. "Very happy indeed with your exposure. But unhappy with your performance."

Your stick drops into its slot, and you freeze. I look to Mark and Travis.

"Gentleman what you don't know is that there was a second part to our wager. And since she has lost my $100 to you, she has a penalty to pay."

Mark looks over at you. "Really?"


Travis pipes up. "What's the penalty?"

"Yes," you say, turning to face me, "what's my penalty?"

I step over to you and answer. "Your penalty, my love, is that you must try to earn my hundred dollars back. You win, and Mark gives me back my money."

"And if I win?" says Mark.

I smile. "That's the beauty gentleman. No matter what happens, you win. We all do. Because her penalty is..." I grab hold of your hands. "She must play..." I pull your hands up above your head and pin them to the wall."Wearing only this." With your arms stretched above, the bottom half of your breasts are visible as I kiss you, warm and soft upon your lips.

You grin at me. "I shoulda known."

"Hold on," says Mark. He's staring at your body splayed against the wall, paying particular attention to the area from your belly button to your nipples poking at your shirt. "That is an absolutely gorgeous penalty. And you're right; that is a win for all of us. But what if she loses again? She'll have embarrassed you twice then. Does she receive another penalty?"

I smile. "A fair point." To you I say, "What should the penalty be at the end of the game? If you win, I get my money back. But if you lose, what do they get at the end of the game?" I lean in and whisper into your ear. "Remember yellow or red." You nod. "Hmmmm. I know. Gentlemen, if she loses again, you each get to deliver two slaps on her upturned ass. That's fair right, my love? After all you're going to be teasing them mercilessly throughout this game; they deserve a tiny bit of skin to skin if you lose, yes?"

You are taking shorter, shallower breaths. "C'mon, there's surely some other type of penalty," you say, "something less..."

"That is your penalty. Take it or leave it."

You look me in the eye, but I can't read you. However, after a long pause, you let out a very soft purr, deep and low, that only I can hear. Then, louder, "Let go of my hands, please. I'll need them to break."

I let go and the three men cheer as the bartender looks on stoically. Travis begins to rack the balls as you and Mark chalk your cue sticks.

"The first rule, gentleman: If this is to continue, there will be no cell phones. No pictures. Understood?" I tap my hand on the bar. "Bring them over."

"Absolutely," says Mark. All three men bring their phones over.

I look to the bartender. "Can we store them up high on that shelf behind you. Yours, too?"

He nods, collects all of our phones, opens a small step ladder, climbs up and places them on the high shelf. He also reaches below, grabs your purse and phone, and places them up high as well. When I shoot him a curious look, he motions me around behind the bar where I can see the feeds for the bar's closed circuit security cameras. Two show the lively time going on in the main bar, one shows the empty bathroom hallway, and one shows this room... but not all of it. Something is obscuring the camera. And as I lean in closer I realize - after looking back up near the shelf with our phones and spy the camera just behind it - that it's your purse sitting in the way. The edges of the room are visible, but the pool table and its surroundings in the center are entirely hidden.

I lay another hundred in front of him before turning back to you. To you, I say, "Very well. It's time to win or pay up."

You stare at me as you set your chalk down. "Guess I'll just haveta win then."

"Still so cocky? I would not be so certain after your last shot."

You smile big as you look at all of us. "True But you're all for forgetting one thing."

"What's that?" says Mark.

You slide one hand slowly up and down your cue stick. You lean over the pool table, and your breasts jiggle and sway, barely contained by your shirt. As you stretch your arm back, you say "It's awfully hard for a man to play well when he's distracted." You spot your ball and let loose with a solid break, sending two stripes into their pockets. Your tits jiggle even more as you stand.

"Holy shit," says Travis in reverence. Mark whistles. And you wink at me.

Very quickly I can tell that you want to win this round; you're enjoying being on display, but the wonton look my way makes me think you are already pondering us on our couch at home, you riding my cock as you come hard. You are not throwing this game, but playing to win. And I love that that you've only had one drink because that means you are fully in control of your body and mind right now.

And enjoying every second of teasing us.

You sink three in a row. Placing the cue ball with back spin and English brilliantly each time so that every shot is easy and assured. Meanwhile, you make sure that anyone behind you gets a nice long view of your exposed breasts hanging low and pushing into the table. You even wiggle your butt a bit, teasing them with what they will never get. The gentleman respond each time with their appreciation. Their arousal deepens.

You sink two more, running the table, and the eight ball remains. You'll soon have my money back, you'll have gotten to display yourself, you'll have teased a few men, and you'll take me home to where we can fuck until the morning hours.

"Better get in closer gentlemen. This may be your last look," you say. All five of us gather behind you. We leave room for you to take the shot as we crouch down to look table level. You lean forward, and as you do, we can see all of your breasts hanging low, your nipples extremely hard. You giggle. "So easy, boys."

Travis says, "I can see how much you love showing off. Look at the back of her shorts, guys. Her pussy must be soaking."

You do not expect his comment, and a small gasp escapes you as you strike the cue ball. It was an easy shot, but that brief moment of lost focus sends you wide. The eight ball bounces off both sides of the pocket and lies still. The back spin on the cue ball pull it back towards a corner pocket. It slows, almost stops.... then drops in. A scratch on the eight ball; you've lost.

"Oh, shit," you whisper.

The gentleman cheer and begin trading high-fives. The bartender turns to the door and raises a finger. He checks that it is secure, locks it, then returns behind the bar.

Shaking from the adrenaline now coursing through your body, you stand up and turn. I step in close and whisper in your ear, "Don't disappoint me, my little slut." You nod and exhale slowly.

"All right, gentlemen, stand back. Mark and Travis, one at a time, claim your reward and her penalty. Two smacks each. No marks." To you, I say, "Assume the position."

You groan and swing around. You place your hands on the table and aim your upturned ass to them. Travis steps forward.

"Hold on," I say. "What are you doing?" You both look at me, unsure. "Shorts and panties around your knees, please."

Your eyes go wide. "What? You said the penalty was just two spanks each. You never mentioned anything about my bare ass."

I take a step towards her. "Then you didn't hear all of it. I specifically said skin to skin. Meaning their naked hands on your naked ass." You stand there for a moment, mouth open, blinking. "Are you refusing to pay the penalty?"

"I'm not refusing, I just..."

"Do you deny that I said 'skin to skin?'"

"Well, no, but..."

"Oh, slut. I thought you knew better than that. Now stop refusing, and drop your shorts and panties to your knees, bend over, and show us just how wet your pussy is as you are spanked. You have ten seconds to prepare for your penalty."

The other men are silent and still, barely breathing as they wait to see what happens.

You steal quick looks at each of their faces, at the closed and locked door, at the phones put away for your safety, at me.

I know what you crave.

Ten seconds tick past. I let the silence hold for another five.

"Very well," I say, my voice low and threatening. I step in behind you, one arm around your torso, the other grabbing hold of your hair - close to the scalp so I don't injure. You gasp and whimper. "What is the penalty for disobeying slut?"

Mark interrupts, "Hey, man, she doesn't have to..."

I let go of you and place my hands out to the sides. "Of course. You gentlemen don't know what stands before you. You see, you have a cock-hungry slut here. And I can almost guarantee she missed that losing shot in the first game on purpose. Am I right, slut?"

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, sir, I missed that shot on purpose. Yes I'm a cock, hungry slut, sir."

"Whose slut?"

"Your slut, sir."

"And do you deserve punishment?"

"Yes, sir."

"What punishment?"

"I don't know yet, sir. But it's because I disobeyed you and didn't follow your order immediately."

I look over at the slack-jawed men.

"As you know, gentleman, no pictures. No marks will be left by anyone. You will follow any orders I give immediately, but while we are in here, if you wish to stay, she is my slut, and I will order her to do whatever it takes to pay her penalty. She can stop it at any time. If she says "Yellow" we pause. If she says "Red" we end it. No questions, we all stop immediately. Is that understood?"

They each give their affirmative, and I place my lips next to your ear. "Remember. You have the control. Yellow or red at any time."

Through ragged breaths you respond, "Yes sir."

"Very good slut." I step out from behind you. "Now, turn your ass around, lean on that table, and don't you say a fucking word unless it's "Red" or "Yellow" or an answer to a direct question from me. Now, slut!"

You do not hesitate. You wheel around, bend over, and push your ass towards us.

"Don't you move slut? Mark, you won her bra, now you've won her panties. Come over here and take them."

Mark pauses. Unsure.

"Just games, Mark. I assure you, she wants it. Would you like further proof?" He nods. "My slut, do you want this?"

"Yes, sir."

"Why?"

"Because I love being your slut, sir. I want to be stripped and spanked because I deserve it, sir."

I'm not sure how much Mark believes your words, but he certainly notices how your ass keeps pushing towards him, wriggling in agony for the spanking you so desperately desire. A slow grin spreads on his face.

"Well done, my little slut. Now, shut your fucking mouth. Mark, her panties are yours. Take them."

He steps forward behind you, sizing you up. He places his hands on your bare hips. And as he glides them down your ass, your breath catches and your hips push towards him. "Holy fuck," he says. And then, before you register what he is doing, he reaches up the back of your shorts and pulls your panties as far down as he can. With both hands, he rips the seam of one side. The motion jerks you back, and you gasp as you grip the edge of the pool table. He tears the other side and your ass cheeks shake. Then, slowly, he slides your panties out, soaking up as much of your juice as he can, covering them with the wetness of your hot leaking cunt. He sniffs them, then tosses them to Travis.

"Holy shit you weren't kidding, Travis. This slut is soaking wet."

Travis feels them and lets out a low whistle before tossing them to the third gentleman who chuckles.

"Now for the original punishment," I say. "Mark, relieve her of her shorts."

Mark reaches around, undoes the button and zipper, and yanks them down your legs. As they pass your feet, he also grabs you by the calves and removes your sandals. He tosses your clothing under the table.

You are quite the sight to behold: leaning on the table, your half shirt hanging low and barely covering your breasts, naked from midriff to toes, sweat beginning to bead your skin.

Mark runs his hands across your ass.

"Hold on slut," I say. "Spread your legs. Show him your pussy." You spread your feet apart. "No, you can do better than that slut. Slide forward. Good. Now put your right knee up on the table. Show everyone how wet you are. Gooooood girl."

Your pussy lips are now wide open, and though you've barely been touched, we all can see how swollen they are. The left labia, which always swells more than the right, is budding outwards, glistening in pink and red hues.

"Much better slut. And now for the spanking. Travis, hold her hands down and cover her mouth. We don't want anyone hearing her mewl."

Your breath quickens as he steps forward.

"Yellow or red, slut?" You shake your head 'no' as he grabs your wrists with one hand and covers your mouth with the other.

"Remember, gentlemen. No marks. But let's remember the point - to teach this fucking slut a lesson in obedience."

I've barely gotten my words out when Mark brings his hand down hard on your right ass cheek. The resounding smack is accompanied by your grunt into Travis's hand. Mark smacks you again on the right, and you tremble. Travis removes his hand from your mouth and you take a deep breath in.

"I'm afraid you've disappointed the lady Mark. Am I right, slut." You nod your head. "Tell him why he's disappointed my slut."

"Because," you say, "you have to even them out. Please, sir"

"With pleasure," says Mark. Travis covers your mouth again as Mark delivers two quick spanks to the left side. Your muffled cry is barely audible. He steps back smiling and says to you, "Thank you very much, slut. You are truly beautiful." Travis lets go of you and I step forward knead your ass: rubbing, squeezing. You moan with pleasure at the dichotomy of senses: Hot stinging blended with warm tingling of your flesh. I move my hands, spreading my fingers across your arched back. One hand finds your unclad left breast, strokes and pinches the nipple. Your breath catches. "Harder, slut?"

"Yes, sir. "

I pinch harder and you shudder.

I glide my hands across your ass and onto your thighs. Two fingers slide up to your pussy lips, and you bite your lip as you whimper. I stroke both sides of your opening. Your hips respond, beginning a small, slow circle. I graze my fingertips along your throbbing clit. Your legs nearly buckle.

"Such a cock-hungry little slut." I chuckle as I smack your ass playfully. "Switch places, boys."

They do so quickly: Mark holding your mouth and hands, Travis behind you. Travis massages your ass. Then, ever so gently, his hand slides downwards and cups your pussy. Your legs almost buckle again.

"You love a stranger's hand on your cunt, don't you, slut?" You nod quickly and take a deep breath as he places two fingers inside of you. Your loud squeal is now muffled by Mark's hand. Travis removes his fingers and smacks one of your ass cheeks. You jump and moan. He massages where he struck, moves his fingers back into your pussy, and then, just as you are pushing into his fingers, he removes them and smacks your ass again. You squeal louder.

"This bitch is unbelievably wet," says Travis. He smacks your other ass cheek. And again. With his slow massaging, his warm fingers up your hot pussy, and his final spank, you are breathing quickly through your nose before Mark releases your mouth.

I step forward and Travis backs away as I now place two fingers inside you. My other hand grabs hold of your hair and pulls. "Now, slut," I say. I smack your gaping pussy lips twice with my wet fingers. "What is your other punishment to be? All of that? Simply payment for the wager." I jack two fingers inside you again, and you bite your lip to avoid making noise. "So..."

I spank your pussy twice more.

Slap slap!

"What shall it be? Tell us, you little slut."

Slap!

"What..."

Slap!

"... Punishment..."

Slap!

"... Is enough to pay..."

Slap!

You are writhing, your breath ragged, trying not to cry out.

"For not obeying immediately?!"

Slap, slap!

You lower your leg off the table, closing your pussy off from the torment.

"Yellow, please, sir, yellow!"

I immediately remove hands from you and motion to Mark to do the same. He releases your hands. You try to catch your breath.

"What do you need?" I say.

"Just... just give me a minute. Gently rub my ass and pussy?"

"Absolutely."

I slowly stroke your behind with one hand, and rub your vagina softly with my palm.

"Breathe." You take a long deep breath, and I match you. We exhale together. Long and slow. "Breathe." We do it again. I stroke the back of her hair. After a few more of these, your breathing has become slow and measured, your heart no longer racing. "Do you wish to continue?"

You close your eyes and take one more long breath before looking at me over your shoulder. "Yes, sir. Please continue, sir. I haven't paid my punishment yet. Just no more spanking of my pussy please, sir."

I lean down and whisper to you. " I love you."

"I love you too."

I kiss you, our tongues wrapping around one another. "Ready?"

You nod.

"Good. Now...." I grab hold of your hair, and you moan in pleasure, your eyes closed.

"Yeeeesssss," you say through strained vocal cords.

"Slut!" My bark shocks you, and you open your eyes. "You dare to speak without being allowed?? You will only speak when I ask a question, yes?"

"Mmhmm. Yes. I mean yes, sir!"

"Oh, slut. So disobedient. First you speak without being asked a question and then you fail to call me, sir." I jam two fingers up inside of you and begin pounding them in and out. "You need another punishment for that."

Through your moans, you are able to cry out, "Yes, sir."

"How many, slut?"

"Ten, sir!"

My fingers pull out of your pussy with a wet, sucking, pop. I cup it as I tease your clit with my finger. You groan loudly.

"Mark, strip her."

Without a moment's hesitation, Mark grabs your shirt and tears it over your head and arms. You are now spread out, your body completely exposed to everyone in the room. "Count out loud, slut."

I smack the side of your ass.

"Argh! One."

I smack the other side.

"Two," you whimper.

Then I release. Six quick slaps all around your ass, not hard but loud, quick and relentlessness. You suck in air as you count to eight.

I rub my hand all over your butt. Your cheeks are mottled, dark pink and white. "Keep counting, slut, but also answer the question from before. What is your bigger punishment going to be?"

Smack!

"Unff! Nine. I.... I deserve to be fucked, sir."

"That's your punishment? Hardly sounds like a lesson for a cock-hungry slut. How is that punishment?"

"Because sir...."

Smack!!

"Aargh, ten! I'll be fucked so hard like a fucking disobedient slut, sir, pushed over this table and fucked in my pussy and mouth. My nipples spanked. Cocks deep inside my throat, sir."

I pull you up to standing as I tease your nipples. You lean your head back onto my shoulder.

"That is quite the punishment, slut. Why so rough?" I squeeze your nipples.

"Argh! Because I'm a fucking slut, sir! I'm a slut and I get myself into these positions because I love to be fucked and punished, sir!"

"Very good, slut!" From my pocket I remove a handful of condoms, scatter them on the table. Mark and Travis quickly begin applying them. I spin you around, lock eyes with you as I brush the sweat-filled hair away from your face. We grin at one another.

And before I can say it, you say to me. "And because I'll have the control, sir. Yellow or red." I smile big and kiss you hard.

"Such a fucking slut."

"Yes, sir."

Your breathing is sharp, your pulse quickening, the smell of your dripping sex permeating the room. I spin you around and slap your ass. You grunt.

"All right, you heard her gentlemen. She wants it rough over the table. No anal, no marks, condoms inside her pussy. Is that understood?" They both nod vigorously. I glance over to the third man, still seated along the side, who now has his dick in his hand, quite happily entertained. "Very good."

I grab your hair and shove you down over the corner of the table. Slap your ass. Twice, three, four times hard. You squeal again. "All right, boys, she wants a rough fucking? Let's give the bitch what she wants."

And for the next fifteen minutes, we are relentless. The punishment is more than I've ever seen you take. I expect you numerous times to call out 'yellow' or 'red', but you never do.

Travis is the first behind you. He grabs hold of your hair. He also holds close to the scalp so he doesn't hurt you, but he slams into you with his cock, and you gasp. He pushes your legs, spreading them wider, and as he finds a fast pounding rhythm, I come around and place my cock in your mouth. You use your hand and your spit to lather me up. You try to use both your mouth and hands to hold all of me, but I lock your arms behind your back. Travis holds them there as I open up the back of your throat with my throbbing cock.

Your tits smash into the green felt of the table. The smack of Travis's pelvis into your ass tells me just how hard he is being. You gag on my cock so I pull back. Then you nod your head, so I push back in. You take it deeper before gagging again. I release. You cough and spit, nod again. Your moans and cries grow deeper and longer. And now you are taking all of my cock in your mouth and throat, and all of Travis into the depths of your pussy. He and I match rhythms, and soon Travis can't take it any longer. He grunts and cries out, "Holy fuck!" before spasming behind you for a solid thirty seconds.

The feel of a stranger coming in you from behind as I abuse your throat proves too much for you as well. Travis lets go of your arms as I pull out of your mouth. You push yourself up, arching your back. You shake and spasm saying "Ohmygod" over and over before collapsing forward, breathless.

But you are given no time to rest. Mark steps behind and plungers into you. He looked to be about the same length as Travis, but I could tell he was wider. And as he stretches you, you whimper, "Yes... Yes.... YES!"

You push upwards again, arching your back so that his cock is at the best angle. Your breasts sway, and I grab hold of one of them, squeezing it, stretching the skin around your nipple. Then I spank it.

"Oh, fuck!" you scream. "Oh, fuck, oh, fuck....."

Travis comes around and grabs your other breast, begins to do the same. Your areolae are swelling and turning a fiery reddish brown. You buck and writhe and moan. But as you begin to scream, I clamp my hand over your mouth.

"Do you deserve more, slut?"

I remove my hand. Through ragged, almost uncontrollable breathing, you beg, "Yes.... yes... yes.... please.... Please fuck me ..... please please fuck me."

"Then open your mouth, bitch."

You open, and I slide my cock all the way down your throat, match rhythm with Mark. I push your head down onto my dick with every thrust. You make guttural, incomprehensible sounds - Glk, glk, glk. I pull out. You gag and take two deep gasps before I'm fucking your mouth again.

Travis continues squeezing and slapping your nipples.

Mark continues fucking you hard.

And the sight of you being abused this way, knowing that you want this, that you asked for every moment of it - the sweet pain on your tits, the raping of your mouth, the brutal pounding from behind - sends both me and Mark to completion. As he explodes into your cunt and growls, I shoot deep down your throat with spasms and moans.

Mark makes sure to grab the edges of his condom as he pulls out. As I slide my dick from your throat, you suck in air.

But you also let out a pathetic whimper. You were so close. And I know what you need. I lay some of our clothing on the pool table, and crawl up onto it.

"Help her up here, gentleman. The slut has paid for her indiscretion. It's time for her to be rewarded."

Though your legs are weak, Travis and Mark help you climb up onto the pool table. I lay on my back, our clothes beneath us, and you hungrily crawl onto my cock.

I slide easily inside you. I am deep and wide, filling every inch of you. Your eyes close and you let out a long, low, growling "Fuuuuuuuuck."

You begin to rock back-and-forth as I very lightly rub your nipples with one hand, your clit with the thumb of my other. Sure enough, it doesn't take long before you are rocking harder, moaning louder, shouting "Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck!" until you can speak no more intelligible words. You simply succumb to the rising and glorious spasming of your body.

You collapse on top, still jolted by occasional spasms, and I hug you tight.

You are dripping with sweat, your hair a mess, your body spent. And you are one of the sexiest things I've ever felt pressed against my body.

I whisper in your ear "It's me now, babe. Are you okay?"

You give a low and husky reply, "I. Am. Fucking Great. And I love you so much."

"I love you too."

And we lie like that for a solid three minutes. Breathing each other in. Reveling in our touch. There is nothing but us.