SirSTRYKER
Posts: 284
Joined: 8/15/2004
Status: offline
|
Sir Stryker’s Poker Bet
Writing about you My dear is as easy as breathing littleone. It takes little effort. All I need do is close My eyes and think of you. I think of your body. So white, so supple, so easily it fits against My own. The nape of your neck. The tiny dimples at your collar blades. I can still the see faint blue bruise where I have marked your neck during O/our last session. How at first you winced. Not wishing to bear the ominous markings in public. How would you ever explain those marks on your neck? What must your co=workers be thinking...snickering behind your back at their smutty boss. Oh no, they wouldn't dare ask you directly about it. They need their meager salaries. They have wives and husbands and kids and older parents to think about. How could they return to their two room flats and announce that the "bitch of the office" had sent them a pink slip in their last paycheck. Besides, you made a habit of not interfering into their personal lives so the need to express your own remained far from you.
Today is Monday. Mondays are usually reserved for your staff brain storming meetings. On Mondays at promptly 9:10 AM you would sneak a peek up to the board room smoked glass window. The tops of their heads, and the outlines of their faint smiles would show through the darkened window as they stared down at your approaching vehicle. You always park directly in front of the building. There is no place for you to hide. Since you have failed to tint the windows of your BMW at My request, they can all see directly into your drivers seat while you park. Feeling somewhat safely hidden, you apply ample makeup to cover the tale tale marks of the recent bruises I left on your blushing white cheeks.
The clothes you are wearing are the same ones you had on all weekend. No stockings, yet thankfully I require you regular tanning sessions which compliment your shapely well tanned legs. The over the knee skirt, which you had sternly warned your typing pool not to wear displays those lovely legs which I adore so much, but then you are the boss so the others can just get over it.
Looking up into the outer window of the boardroom, you see their heads peeking down at your car. They are like vouchers, like the wagging tongues of old women who labor intensively over clothes lines on a sunny afternoon. You know the types, they gossip about how Sally and Jim were arguing last night. They dwell on how little Henry wore the same torn pants to school all week. They jawbone about the lateness of the mail man, and how much milk costs to be delivered...such and such useless blah blah blah to make the day go on and to make themselves feel important as they await your arrival and the start of the meeting. This is how you notice the stares of your coworkers as they peer down toward your vehicle. A shudder runs through you as you wonder what they would think if they only knew the true you. The dark, deeper desire of your lifestyle of total submission.
It is as if your makeup case has an electronic lock on it. You fumble and yank on it but the damn thing just wouldn’t open. A stab with your eyes lands on the mirrors. The tale tale bruises are quite visible. The marks of your Master Stryker. Your badge of courage freely accepted at His strong black hands. Yet on this bright Monday morning, you fear it has no place in the staff meeting. Finally, after spilling half its content on your black skirt, it opens. You dab the power over the marks on your cheeks, smile at the concealment, and close it back again.
Reaching now underneath your bottom, you lift up and grab at and slowly tug out the ominous butt plug I have inserted into you this morning. It is not your normal place to disappoint Me but while climbing into your car from the hotel, you noticed that your walk was unsteady with it lodged tightly up your asshole. Feeling that there would be no way you could properly walk into that high pressure meeting with the way you ass swayed while being impaled with the butt plug, you slide it out and wrapped it in tissue making a mental not to re-insert it before O/our after work meeting. Ahh there was a warm feeling of mixed pleasure as it slid out of your sore asshole. Then the oozing of My cum followed. You gasped at the thought of it smearing against the black inner side of your skirt.
You dabbed at it there and sighed. A lie formed in your brain thinking that you could simply dismiss it as having sat on one of the open boxes of donuts you brought for the meeting. After all, they were your staff, your lackeys, and would never confront you directly for any such slight of your professional dress.
As you now applied another coat of lipstick, you noticed your pursed lips. Such supple lips that only mere hours ago had been stuffed with the long black cock of a friend of your Master.
You had spent the weekend paying off the bet your Master had made of you. You are His property and your revel at each paring He decides to share with you. But this weekend had been different. You didn't want to do it, not on your own accord, yet to please Him you would walk through the very gates of Hell doused in gasoline.
It all started last Friday evening. You were home straightway from work as expected. Upon entering your home your stripped and crawled into your dog cage and locked the door, tossing the key to the center of the room. Inside you smiled as your Master had left you fresh water in a bowl along with cold, left over lasagna which you freshly cooked after work yesterday. At least He didn't have intentions to starve you this night.
You could hear voices in the den but the sliding doors were closed. The muffled voices were inaudible save that for the loud laughter of your Master. It was His usual Friday night poker game. At some times when you came home and the dog cage was not open, you instinctively knew to strip, go to the bedroom and put on your maids uniform. The French maid was there only to serve the Masters poker guests. As you brought a fresh tray of drinks and snacks, each and every male there would be fondling your ass from under your short skirt, or tugging at your ample nipples. Some found pleasure at lifting your skirt, and slapping your naked ass. One man in particular had a rather large hand. When he struck your ass it would leave his palm prints on one cheek and his finger marks on the other. He also had a penchant of slapping you twice each time He hit you. Once you actually dropped your tray of drinks in his lap as the first blow landed. You stared at your Master in horror, your face red and showed fear at disappointing Him before His guests. With out saying a word your Master stood and walked to the dining room and returned with His favorite implement of teaching. A long thin, flexible bamboo cane. A sudden shutter chilled your back as your Master stood behind you and grabbed you by the back of your neck.
Forcing your face into a bowl of mashed potatoes, nearly smothering you, His long arm raised and landed six criss cross blows on the upturned ass beneath Him. "You insulate, incompetent slut!", I hissed enforcing each blow. Remove His trousers at once. Fall to your knees and kiss his soaked cock slut, then beg His forgiveness at once. Yet another blow landed which was aimed at the bud of your asshole. A shriek of shear pain escaped your throat as you dropped to your knees and undid His guests trousers. You took that swiveled, wet, flaccid cock between your lips and licked the damp spot at the head of it. The man stirred slightly at your ministrations. Being on your knees between Him and another man, your skirt rode up to the top of your ass. A gasp escaped you as the man next to your sent three fingers directly up and into your asshole. "This slut has been ass fucked before," He loudly exclaimed. All the others snickered and smiled at His discovery.
"Of course she has, she's My slut isn't she?" your Master Stryker laughed. Laughter was now heard all around. You continued to abase yourself and resolved
to not disappoint Me by giving this man the best blow job ever. Not with the same zeal you save for your Master, yet something you were sure His wife would never be able to match. You actually pride yourself on giving face. I have never been one who particularly enjoys having My cock sucked, but over time I have taught you to perform such a slaves task quite to My liking. You know the difference of those who blow their load at the mere feeling of a woman’s lips encasing the head of their cocks, and that of Mine which must be well lodged deeply into the back of your throat. So you give this man the former. And within moments he grunts and blows his wad inside your mouth. One thing you do know is not to swallow too quickly. It is a man's trophy to see his warm seed language on the tongue of a cocksucker. you purse your lips and force some of the sperm to escape down your lower lip and dribble towards your chin then you knowingly suck it slowly back into your mouth and make an audible sound as you swallow it. All the time you maintain eye contact with the man you have just sucked off. Smiling down at you, you know you have performed well and you stand and remove the dumped tray and soiled potatoes and return to the kitchen.
"She's some bitch Stryker," another man says to Me. "I know she is, a rare treasure indeed. Smart, talented, self sufficient, and totally dedicated to serving Me, and thus is why the bitch bears My collar and not yours My brother." I often speak kindly and proudly about you though rarely to you, as I would not wish to give you a case of the big head. I have other ways of alerting you that I desire you littleone. Such as the diamond studded collar I permit you to wear on the rare occasions I take you out. Or the way I get up early and select what clothing you must wear to work. The way I lay out your workout clothing, or ensure that your favorite magazine subscription never runs out. Little things which I permit you to enjoy yourself with. But rarely do I actually speak to you in endearing terms littleone. But I constantly brag about how much you mean to Me when I am around other Doms.
Then a guy to My left says, "I'll bet that given a choice that bitch would leave you in a second. In fact, if you left Me with here for three or four hours, she'd throw rocks at you Stryker."
This was a direct challange to My Domdom, My manhood, and I took it personal. To have made such a bold statement would have normally cost him his life. No one takes that which is mine nor attempts to. In fact, the last idiot who attempted to do so has been only identified by his little finger which a rat in a dark alley was chewing upon. No further questions were asked and the cops marked the case closed. The other three Doms stopped fidgeting with their poker chips. They too knew it was a challange and the consequences of making such to Me. These things happen rarely as My reputation in this town was quite well known. Either I accept it and prove the idiot wrong, or I appear weak and become an easy prey for any and all others to simply take that which is Mine. This could never be. Staring directly into the young mans eyes I lifted and swallowed My straight scotch and called you into the game room.
You entered with a knowing blush on your face and stood at My right hand.
"This night you will dress in your daisy dukes, sneakers, plain leather collar and halter top. You shall go home with Sir Louie as His property slut. You will do as He commands and not disappoint Me in His requests. However should He attempt to push you beyond the limits I have set for you , then you have only to dial Me here at home and I shall put an end to his existence, this I swear before Him, you and these others. Agreed Gentlemen?" All present smile snicker and agree, as do you since it is your bound duty to do naught but to sadly obey Me. I further explain to you for your assurance that, "Tonight I have obedience you, My prize possession as a bet to prove your obedience slut. You full know what you mean to Me girl so go and do that which I bid." I tug at your hair and bend your face to Mine and plant a loving kiss on your trembling lips and say, "My limo shall arrive sharply at 7am on the morrow, go now My Pet."
With a tear of reluctance falling from your eyes you turn and face the Dom who I appoint you too. Soon the two of you compose yourself and depart the house. As you are about to leave the door, His arm finds your shoulder and your head turns slightly to give Me one last glimpse hoping for Me to relent this task set before you, yet finding naught but My cold steel stare.
AS the card game continues in earnest, I hear His car leave the driveway, and somewhere deep inside My chest, My heart sinks.
Once at His penthouse the doorman opens your door. You get out and again the Dom leads you through the large glass doors. His apartment is in the penthouse. It is decorated in modern theme. You walk to the open terrace and stare out at the night lights hoping to discern the location of the neighborhood of O/our home but finding it not.
Suddenly His voice breaks the silence and you feel His hands at your throat. He is fumbling with your/My collar. You bend away and say that to remove it will be not allowed as it was placed there by your Master Stryker. He says, "yes but Stryker is not here now bitch." You resist and say that your Master is always with you." With a defiance unknown to Me you add, "I understand that you have won me in a poker bet, and that I am yours for the moment, yet I shall rather be tossed off this balcony than to refuse the honor of My Master. So, Sir, do that which you desire to My body but know that through it all My mind belongs to Him."
With that, the Dom slaps your face. The blood trickles down the side of your lip. You gasp but snap your head straight back to him as if asking for another. He snickers and then rips off your blouse popping buttons all over the floor. As usual you have no bra on and your breasts fall free. The sight entices Him and his hands fly to the pert nipples and begin to dig and tug at them.
He figures if He can't have your readily accept your fate, He could punish you to submit. His open palms slap at the sides of your breasts. You scream in pain yet stand straight before Him. He uses fishing wire to tie slip knots about your hardened nipples and then places two pound fishing weights on the ends of them. As they hang between your knees He kicks at them an causes them to swing widely. The pain is excruitiating and your breath comes in short gasps.
Next He finds a studded dildo and roughly jams it past your pussy lips dragging your fine cunt hairs along with it. Some are pulled out by the roots, others flex and stretch inside you. The pain is sudden and hurts like all get out. Yet it is something you know you must do in your attempts to please and save the honor of your Master Stryker. your legs grow week at the torment. Yet there is a strong stare of defiance that coats your face.
Feeling that He is loosing this battle of wits, the Dom now balls up His fist and punches you directly in the middle of your stomach. This blow quickly expels all remaining air from your lungs and doubles you over. In this state the Dom walks behind your and kicks you in your ass with the flat of His shoe. Falling on your belly with your forehead bouncing off the carpet you are stunned. Again He commands, "Save yourself further pain slut and remove Stryker’s damn collar and become Mine slut!" Through clenched teeth you adamantly refuse proclaiming your love and devotion to your Master. "Very well slut have it your way then bitch," the Dom says. Now he uses a large knife and slices the hem of your maid skirt up to the waist band. Then he rips the shattered cloth off your body, exposing your firm round ass. Kneeling behind you, you feel Him spit directly into your tiny nether hole. It is cold and dripping down to the carpet. Next He lifts you by the sides of your hips and lifts you to your knees. Your face is held tight to the carpet and leaves scratches on it. Then He shifts positions and forces His long thick hard cock straight up into your unsuspecting asshole. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH," you scream. "NOOOOOOOO please stop Sir pppppppplllllllleeeeeeeeeaaaaaaassse" But his relentless pounding deep into your ass continues. After what seems like hours of endless pounding, somewhere in your self-defense mechanism your sphincter relaxes and in defiance you grind your hips back to his large intruder. This is to His dismay. With all the women He has chosen to humiliate and punish, this was his ace in the hole. And for you, having been well accustomed to My penchant for ass fucking you, have found the safe comfort zone during His assault.
Try as He might, long, deep, sideways, slow and again much faster His cock pummeled into you. All the while you lay there accepting His sorted onslaught with the ease of a well trained slave. Soon he could hold out no longer and He erupted deep into your asshole. With a silent triumphant smile hidden by the carpet you knew you had won and passed the test.
With out ceremony, you shake His limp boy out of your asshole and him off your back. You stood and faced Him as He lay on the floor heaving for His breath. "Just where the fuck do you think you are going now bitch?" he hissed in defiance. "Why back to My Master Stryker of course Sir, as it would appear you have no further need of Me, yet I do have a sincere need for Him!" Then with the cut of a slave who has beaten a much lesser Master you chided, "I shall Sir, relay to My Master that at least you tried your best, although it was just not good enough to sway me away from Him. Perhaps He shall invite you to His next poker night, and should He do so, and perhaps another tray of drinks happen to be spilt on your lap, I'd suggest you clean it up yourself, as Master Stryker rarely makes such concessions a second time Sir."
With that you dress and use a pin to close your sliced skirt and open the door, walk to the limo and order the driver to return you once more to the home of your Master Stryker.
The only sound you hear is the drivers voice politely saying, "But of course Miss." Then the large care lurches off towards home.
Finding the home empty and My chair also empty, you knowingly strip and head for the Master bedroom where I am sited in My sofa throne before a full warm bubble bath waiting for you, My pet of Pets, My love, and My loyal trusted slave. No further speech is required as you settle in and refresh yourself.
Well done I whisper, very well done. Then you hear the sound of My nine millimeter gently falling on the floor. You sigh knowing that I was full aware of whence you were taken and had been ready to speed to your rescue should you have not arrived moments later...as it should be My pet.
THE END
You have just been struck by Sir Stryker
Written by Sir STRYKER
[email protected]
|
THE POKER BET by SIR STRYKER - 
Profile
RE: THE POKER BET by SIR STRYKER - 
New Messages
No New Messages
Hot Topic w/ New Messages
Hot Topic w/o New Messages
Locked w/ New Messages
Locked w/o New Messages
Post New Thread