Always-Ampersand
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This extra-spicy tickle tale is inspired-by/a spinoff/a sequel to “Her Secret” posted in 2013 by @ticklishbod20 😊
Perched on the tips of her toes as she leaned over the sink to get close to the bathroom mirror, Christine swiped on one final layer of dusty rose lipstick.
This was the right choice, she thought, gently rubbing her lips together. Red would have been too on the nose for the…
A firm knock on the bathroom door jolted her thoughts.
“How’s it going in there?” Mark asked through the thin wood. “He just texted me that he’s in the lobby.”
“Almost done!” Christine called back, infusing as much lightness into her voice as possible.
Deep breaths, she thought.
This is going to be good for both of us. All of us. Get yourself together!
“What was that last bit? Are you OK?” Mark’s warm voice asked again, sounding slightly farther away.
Realizing she had said at least some of that internal monologue out loud, Christine took her own advice and inhaled deeply.
“Nothing, my love,” she said as she slid open the door and stepped out into the bedroom of the mid-century-styled hotel suite.
***
Her high heels barely made her roughly 5’4”, but Mark could see Christine pulling herself to her full height in a show of confidence.
He looked from those heels — which he simultaneously wanted to rip off and feel digging into his sides, he realized — up her petite form, pausing to study her lips before meeting her eyes.
He could see her nerves, it was true, but excitement danced there too.
“You look lovely, Angel,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said, breaking eye contact to look down at her outfit. She adjusted the leather belt at her waist.
A waist his fingers itched to prod and dance around.
“Are you ready?” He asked — the question loaded with more meaning than the state of her primping.
“Oh, I’m ready,” she said, bringing her eyes back up to meet his gaze.
Big, brown eyes that now held more than a spark of challenge and mischief.
Fuck me, he thought, swallowing hard.
Now I’m the one who needs to get it together.
***
Thump Thump Thump
Christine struggled to follow the conversation over the sound of her pulse in her ears.
She was trying to be charming — she really was — as the now-trio sipped on cocktails and got better acquainted.
Thump Thump Thump
Instead, she would bet her newest show’s entire advertising revenue on the fact they could hear her heart pounding as the two ridiculously-attractive men chatted across the table.
Gambling. How appropriate.
The thought made her snort into her drink.
“Something funny, Princess?”
She jumped as Derek bumped his knee against hers under the table, despite her growing comfort level with the tall, bearded man.
“Oh…I..uh,” she stammered.
She looked over at Mark, hoping to find a suitable response in his dark chocolate eyes.
Instead, the asshole just winked.
“She’s easy to get a laugh out of,” he said, swirling the drink he’d barely touched.
“Aren’t you, Angel?”
And gods help her, despite their company and her commitment to being a good host — Christine just couldn’t help her bratty self.
“With the right stimulation, I suppose,” she said with a dramatic shrug and a surge of unearned confidence.
“But not always,” she said, feigning boredom and looking at her nails.
She risked a glance up at Mark, and immediately knew she’d lit a match.
“Well let’s hope I can crack the code,” Derek said, smiling as he pushed his sleeves up his thick forearms.
Christine looked at him and smiled, but, as she raised her glass to take another sip, slid her gaze back to meet Mark’s.
“We’ll see,” she said, returning his teasing wink — dropping that match into the dry kindling all around them.
***
“Here is how this will go,” Mark said, setting down his glass tumbler to reach for the playing cards in the pocket of his jacket hanging on the back of the chair.
He noticed Christine shift in her seat to get more comfortable, bringing one ankle up to rest on her knee so she could fidget with the buckle of her shoe.
Focus, Mark said to himself, pushing away the thoughts of the last time she wore those heels. How her legs had flinched in his grip as he traced a finger down the exposed edge of her sole.
Damn it, focus. He said to himself again. He’d punish her for her unknowing distraction later.
“It’s basic blackjack, standard rules, but with a few twists,” he said, casually shuffling the deck. “For example, instead of chips, we’ll be playing for something else.”
Across the table, Derek leaned back and angled himself to better face Christine, whose gaze bounced between them.
The two men had been chatting about the logistics of the game for the last few days, so he knew the plan.
“For every hand Derek and I win, we get to pick an item of clothing you lose,” Mark said as he continued shuffling the cards.
Mark could tell by Christine’s nearly imperceptible jump Derek must have bumped her knee under the table. Again.
Mark’s cock jumped.
“Personally, I hope you’re no good at math, Princess,” Derek said, smirking.
Christine dramatically rolled her eyes.
“My CFO may disagree, but I’ve got a handle on the basics,” she quipped with a wry smile — openly flirting with the bearded man now.
Mark cracked his neck, finishing another shuffle with a flourish.
“True as that may be, my dear, that’s where the second twist comes in,” he said.
Christine’s head whipped to face him, eyes wide.
That’s more like it, he thought, enjoying as always the feeling of throwing her off balance.
“In this round, I get to decide whether you hit or stand,” he said, going through one final shuffle while soaking in the outrage Christine was failing to hide, despite her clear desire to appear unruffled by the revelation.
“And they say the house always wins,” Derek laughed, leaning forward now to rest his elbows on the table. “What do you say, Princess? Still game?”
With all the bravado of a lion cub, Christine straightened in her seat before dramatically cracking her knuckles and stretching her arms up over her head — exposing the underarms Mark had plans for later — then bringing them down and folding her hands on the table.
“Deal me in,” she said.
***
“And Christine will take another card,” Mark said, smirking.
Goddammit, she thought, but using every moment of boardroom practice, she tried to school her features into smooth neutrality.
“Mmm, I think we might have her again, man,” Derek said, laughing.
She liked his laugh, and how his green eyes crinkled at the edges when he did, even if it was at her expense.
“You don’t know that,” she said, coyly.
But he did. They both did.
Because that was the game — and why her bare upper thighs were currently protesting the chill of the wooden chair upon which she sat.
Other than her black and red lingerie, thigh-high stockings and heels, Christine was down to just one remaining item of clothing — a thin, black silk camisole.
“I’ll stand,” Derek said, shifting to lean back in his chair.
He did that a lot, Christine noticed.
Not that it isn’t working for him, she thought. Indeed, that comfortable confidence was undeniably hot.
“And I’ll take another,” Mark said.
She wasn’t sure if Derek would notice, but she could see by the set of Mark’s jaw that he must have busted. As much fun as she knew he was having — he hated losing any kind of competition.
“Alright, let’s do this,” he said, a little too shortly.
With a knowing grin, Derek flipped his cards on the table.
“Nineteen,” he said.
Mark swore under his breath and flipped over his hand — which totaled 22.
Still, it was better than the 26 she was looking at.
“Let’s see them, Princess,” Derek said, the double entendre dancing in his eyes.
Christine scrunched her nose and looked at her cards.
Then, she had an idea.
Not a good idea, mind you, but what did she really have to lose?
“Um, no thanks,” she said quietly, not looking up at her companions, but watching their reactions in her peripheral vision.
Derek cocked his head to one side, clearly amused, while Mark raised a dark eyebrow.
“What was that, Angel?” Mark asked. He was rolling up the cuffs of his black button down, but she could tell he was watching her intently.
“I think I’ll keep the result to myself, thanks,” she said as she slowly — and she hoped imperceptibly — shifted her legs out of their crossed position.
“I don’t think…” Derek began, but was unable to finish before Christine launched out of her chair and away from the table.
Thanks to years of practice running around sets in heels similar to the ones she had on, she actually made it four or five steps before two strong arms snagged her around the waist.
“Oh no you don’t,” Mark said into the nape of her neck. “Tell me what you have.”
“No!” Christine grunted as she struggled, but he held her so just the tips of her toes touched the floor.
“Oh, Angel, wrong answer,” he chuckled.
Having trapped her wrists in front of her, Mark was able to hold her to his chest with one arm while the fingers of his other hand began their assault on her side.
Christine squealed as he tickled her, kicking her legs out and trying to twist away to no avail.
“I’ll take those,” Derek, who had stepped up beside them, crooned as he snatched the cards from her hand.
Marin paused his tickling, but left his fingers splayed on Christine’s stomach.
“Twenty-six, ouch,” Derek said with a chuckle.
Mark tutted in her ear.
Christine only huffed.
“Seeing as you look so good in those stockings, Princess, I think I’ll take this,” Derek said as he ran a finger under the fabric of her thin top.
“Fine,” Christine sighed, relaxing in Mark’s grip.
She raised her arms as he let her go, and Derek took the opportunity to slowly lift the camisole over her head before heading triumphantly back to his seat.
“Good girl,” Mark whispered in her ear before kissing the crown of her head and leading her back to the table.
***
Having glimpsed the red and black lingerie she planned to wear, Mark had been surprised Christine went with a pink lipstick.
Now, he couldn’t be more glad she had as the shade so nearly matched the color of her ass.
The woman he loved was draped over Derek’s lap while he laid smack after smack into her round backside — adding to the handsome handprints he had left there several minutes ago.
He shifted in his own seat to accommodate how aroused the scene made him.
“OK, time for the next hand,” he said, his voice rougher than he would have liked.
Derek tipped Christine back into her own chair with ease and her hands came up to swat the hair out of her face.
She was deliciously rumpled — mascara smudged at the corners of her eyes and her face flushed — but he could tell by how wide her pupils were that she was turned on too.
This time, he prevailed, and after ceremoniously fanning his five card Charlie on the table, looked at Christine and tapped his lap, beckoning her.
She obeyed, her earlier brattiness tamed for the moment, and perched sideways on his lap.
“No, no, turn around so your back is to me,” he said.
When she complied, he grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms up so her hands were behind her head.
“Clasp your fingers, and don’t take your arms down until I give you permission,” he said sternly.
“Yes Master,” Christine whispered, eyes closed.
He slowly trailed his hands back down her arms, pulling away just enough that his fingertips grazed her triceps and underarms.
Christine flinched and gasped, but kept her hands tightly clasped behind her neck.
Upon reaching her ribs, Mark began applying more pressure, making her jump and lean forward on instinct.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He said, pulling her back.
Once she was still, he began again, this time more aggressively tickling both sides of her waist.
Christine laughed, this time forcefully leaning back and kicking her legs out in front of her.
Mark shifted her to one side of his lap, allowing him to trap her legs between his while he continued to tickle her.
He’d just about given up hope she’d lose control when one of Christine’s arms swiped down to grab his wrist where it wriggled on her hip.
“Oh Angel, what did I say about those hands?”
Before she could respond, he grabbed her thighs and flipped her over so she was draped over his lap.
He could feel her bracing for a smack, so instead he traced lazy figure eights around her thighs — which he could tell by her trembling were now sensitive enough to be ticklish too.
Smack
Mark smiled as Christine let out a cross between a curse and a moan.
Smack Smack Smack
“Are you ready for the final round?” He asked her, looking up to wink at Derek.
“Yes,” she said, breathless.
Smack
“Yes, Master,” she corrected.
“Better,” he said as he pulled her back up into his lap.
“And fitting — because for the final round, we are playing for that smart mouth of yours,” he announced.
Mark took a moment to really look into her eyes, scanning for any fear or hesitation, but saw none.
Instead, he saw hunger.
“I’m ready,” Christine whispered.
***
Heart racing, Christine moved to hop off of Mark’s lap and retake her seat, but his hands gripped her hips.
“I have a better idea,” he said.
With zero effort thanks to his athletic build, he hoisted her up and onto the wooden surface of the table.
“Not sure this is regulation, but I’m not complaining,” Derek said, eyebrows raised.
Mark cleared the table of their drinks and gathered up the cards from the last hand before setting them between Christine’s knees.
“Stay here,” he said to her, sternly.
Too stunned from being tossed onto the table, she watched as he walked into the bedroom of their suite.
“Having fun?” Derek asked.
She nodded.
From their brief albeit intense interactions that evening, she could tell he was nice.
And hot.
This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done, she thought to herself.
But despite the eyebrows it might raise, being handed back and forth between these two men to be tickled, spanked and now face-fucked at the whim of Lady Luck had Christine shaking with arousal.
After a few moments where she could hear him rummaging through his bag, Mark returned to the table.
In one hand he held two leather cuffs while the other tucked something into his back pocket.
Instinctively, Christine held out her wrists.
“Good girl,” Mark whispered as he clasped a cuff to each one.
“Now, sit up with your hands behind your back,” he said.
She complied, and he reached around to fasten the cuffs together.
After pulling a few times to make sure they were secure, Mark turned to their companion.
“Derek, as our guest, will you do the honors of removing her shoes?”
“Gladly,” the tall man replied, grabbing Christine’s knees and swiveling her to better face him.
With a salacious grin, Derek raised her left ankle, slowly unbuckling the two clasps of her high heel before sliding it off.
Keeping her left in his hand, he pulled up the right to join it, balancing her slender ankle on his thumb while removing the second shoe.
Christine held her breath, trying to sit absolutely still. With how ticklish her feet were and how keyed up she was, she knew the slightest touch would make her legs jump, even while wearing nylons.
“May I?” Derek asked, but he was looking at Mark, and Christine whipped her face to look at him, too.
He nodded.
Before she could turn back to him, Derek gripped each ankle and leaned down, pressing his face into her soles.
Despite the stockings covering them, her soles were immediately twitching as his beard grazed them.
Her eyes never leaving Mark’s, she gasped.
“Oh, these feet are just ticklish as you said. And as hot,” Derek said, inhaling.
Christine could feel his hot breath as he exhaled onto her soles, but the look on Mark’s face had her full attention.
Absolute carnal fire burned in his dark eyes, and he reached down to palm himself while she watched.
“Beautiful, Princess,” Derek said, lowering her legs back down to the table.
She turned to him and smiled.
“Thank you,” she said, breathless.
Mark cleared his throat.
“Excellent. Now, Angel, cross your legs and get comfortable. Derek, can I have your driver’s license?”
Puzzled, but too intrigued — and turned on — to disobey, Christine crossed her legs in front of her while Derek fished out his ID and Mark pulled his own from his back pocket.
Taking the two small plastic cards, he placed one on each of her knees.
“Don’t let these drop,” he said.
Again feeling a boldness she had no idea of the origin, Christine tipped her head to one side and raised an eyebrow.
“Or what, Master?” She asked, over-emphasizing last word.
Nostrils flaring at the resurgence of her bratty tone, Mark smiled.
“I was hoping you would ask. See, this time, we’re playing to ten — first man to win ten hands wins that mouth of yours,” he said, raising a hand to run his thumb along her bottom lip.
“But to make it more interesting, there will still be a back and forth. Each time you let one of those IDs fall, the lucky guy it belongs to takes control of this.”
Without breaking eye contact, Mark pulled out the items she had seen him stow away in his pocket: A flat vibrator designed to slip into one’s underwear, and a remote.
“Oh hell yeah,” Derek said, rubbing his hands together.
“You accept these terms, Angel?” Mark asked, really looking into her eyes again.
Without hesitation, Christine nodded.
Mark gave her a quick peck on the lips before sliding the hand with the vibrator down her torso, giving her stomach a quick tickle before sliding it into her underwear.
Giggling at being tickled and gasping at the contact with her clit, Christine tipped her head back.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Mark said.
She lifted her head back up to look at him.
I should have known there’d be another twist, she thought, and the smirk on his face told her Mark could read that thought right across hers.
“Since I got to decide if you hit or stand in the first round, I thought it would only be fair if you got to do that for us this time. So be sure to pay attention.”
With that, he clicked the remote and brought the vibrator to life, making Christine jolt and instinctively pull her knees more together.
The movement sent both IDs clattering to the table, and both men chuckled.
“I suppose in the case of a draw, I’ll defer to our guest,” Mark said, sliding the remote across the table to Derek before righting the IDs back on her knees.
“Let’s play, Princess,” Derek said with a wink.
***
After winning the first hand, Mark had suggested an additional twist — each man would be dealt his first two cards but not loom at them, instead showing them to Christine and tucking them into the cups of her bra. Then, she’d play for them, hitting or standing, in an even attempt to get both hands a win. Then they’d turn over each card for everyone to see.
She’d kept her cool at first — breathing to steady herself as each of them had toyed with the remote thanks to the involuntary shaking of her legs sending each of their licenses to the table or floor a handful of times.
But the more worked up she got, Mark could tell it was becoming increasingly challenging for Christine to weigh the pros and cons of deciding whether they should get another card.
He wasn’t sure if she was also able to keep score in her head, but this hand would be a decisive one — with Derek’s last victorious hand bringing him to nine wins to Mark’s eight.
Mark still had control of the remote, and he backed down the intensity of the vibrations.
“Ready to go again, Angel?” He asked.
Christine swallowed, and as he watched her throat bob he could see where her hair was sticking to her neck thanks to the sweat beading there.
She was close, and he had a plan.
Maybe it was hubris. Maybe he just wanted to hear her moans as she shattered on the table.
Or maybe, deep down, he actually wanted to lose.
Either way, as he leaned forward to show her his cards and tuck them against her chest, he brushed her hair back and gently traced a finger down her neck, across her shoulder and down the back of her arm.
He could see the goosebumps follow his path.
“Guest first — what will it be?” He asked.
“Stand,” she all but whispered.
Mark looked over at Derek, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through his beard.
“Ok, and what about for me?” Mark asked, now lightly scratching his fingernails down her ribs.
The movement landed as he knew it would, and she squirmed away from the tickling movement, but the IDs stayed perched on each knee this time.
“Umm…I think..uh,” she said, stammering as Mark methodically clicked the remote with his other hand, increasing the intensity of the vibration against her clit little by little.
“You think, what?” He teased, poking her in the ribs this time.
As he clicked to the next level, Mark added his other fingers between her ribs, and Christine moaned, throwing her head back.
“Here’s what’s going to happen, Angel,” he said firmly. “You’re going to come, and when you do, you will tell me whether I’m getting another card.”
She nodded, her eyes squeezed shut.
Mark flipped the vibrator to its highest setting and dropped the remote, allowing him to slip his hand between her legs and press the toy harder into her center.
At the same time, he ran his fingers around her ribs like he was playing a piano, and with a cry, Christine’s body went rigid.
“Hit!” She screamed, then tilted slightly forward as she gasped for air.
Mark clicked the remote to turn the vibrator off and dealt himself another card.
Then, he reached over and unfastened the clasp holding Christine’s cuffed wrists together.
She braced herself on her palms, her chest still rising and falling rapidly.
Mark looked over at Derek, who was still stroking his beard, but who had a satisfied bent to his expression he was sure his own face mirrored.
“Shall we see the results?” Derek asked, his voice calm but rougher than it had been earlier.
“Show us the cards, Angel,” Mark said.
Pushing herself back up, Christine pulled each hand from her bra and laid it face up on the table in front of her.
Derek had a Jack and an eight.
He had a six and a seven.
He had to give it to her, even after an hour of edging and in the midst of being tickled to orgasm, Christine had played to win.
“Let’s see what you hit me with, then,” he said.
And flipped what could only be a cheeky wink from the universe.
He’d busted at the hand of the queen of hearts.
“Well, well, well,” Derek said, victory lacing each syllable, “I guess the house doesn’t always win.”
Mark chuckled.
“A bet’s a bet,” he said. “But I’ll need your help with something first.”
Christine to him, blinking in confusion, but he motioned for her to hold up her wrists.
Gently, Mark undid the cuffs which were now warm from her skin, and kissed each wrist.
Then, he watched as her eyes widened when he began fastening them to his own.
“You’re going to suck his cock, Angel,” he said, somewhat hoarsely, “And I’m going to watch, unable to do anything about it.”
He nodded at Derek — who, the bastard, had gleefully figured out what he was up to without having to ask — and the tall man walked around the table, stepping behind Mark’s chair.
Crouching down, he clipped the cuffs together where Mark had wrapped his arms around the chair behind him.
Standing again, Derek rounded the table again, but instead of stopping at his own chair, pulled out the one Christine had originally occupied — the one now directly in Mark’s line of sight.
Once seated, Derek raised his hand to her.
“My lady,” he said — a statement, Mark noted, not a question.
With one last quick glance in his direction, Christine took his hand and hopped off the table, landing between Derek’s knees.
Thump Thump Thump
Mark’s heart began pounding as Christine slowly lowered herself to the floor, bracing herself on Derek’s thighs.
“You look even prettier down there than you did up on that table,” he said to her, and she giggled.
God, Mark loved that sound. His cock was already hard — had been for however long this marathon game of blackjack had been going — and he knew it was only going to get worse.
Emboldened, Christine slid her hands up Derek’s thighs and undid his belt, button and zipper with deft fingers, and it was soon clear to Mark his fellow card player had been enjoying things just as much.
“That’s it,” Derek said as she wrapped her small hand around his length and lowered her head to lick the tip.
Mark knew from experience how good that felt — and how much his girl loved that kind of praise.
He didn’t miss how she tightened her thighs to attempt to get some friction.
“Nope, knees apart,” he ordered, and despite having her hand around and lips centimeters from another man’s dick, she obeyed immediately, widening her kneeling stance.
“Such a good slut,” Derek said, snaking his fingers into her hair.
Taking it as her cue, Christine lowered her face and wrapped her lips around his cock.
All three of them moaned, and Mark pulled lightly at his restraints.
Christine worked Derek’s cock up and down with her hand and mouth, guiding him deeper until she had only her index finger and thumb still assisting.
“Hands behind your back,” Mark ordered, and again she immediately complied, sending a jolt straight to the base of his spine.
I will NOT come in my pants, Mark thought to himself while clenching his teeth. He had to draw the line somewhere.
Derek took the opportunity and slid his other hand into Christine’s dark hair, clearly holding firm but still letting her set the pace.
From his view, Mark could see her eyes close as she hollowed out her cheeks and — he guessed — whirled her tongue along the underside of Derek’s cock.
“Fuck, that’s good,” he gritted out, fingers tightening noticeably.
The praise elicited a moan from Christine, and Mark realized he was pulling hard enough on his restraints that he’d leave marks.
Good, he thought. He wanted another reminder this happened, even if it would fade in a day or two.
As Christine continued to bob up and down, Derek’s grip on her head became more possessive, and he was soon thrusting up into her mouth to meet her.
“I’m close, Princess,” he panted, “You ready for me to give it to you?”
Christine nodded as best she could and hummed an affirmative tone as Derek looked up at Mark.
Mark nodded, his cock screaming against his zipper, and then focused back on Christine, sliding his gaze from her head down to where he could see her toes curling from her own state of arousal.
“Fuck, fuck, Fuck!” Derek grunted as he thrust the last few times into Christine’s mouth, then stilled.
She visibly swallowed.
Derek collapsed back into the chair, and Christine rocked back on her heels, panting and wiping her lips with her thumb and forefinger.
She turned to look at Mark, and he could see where her makeup betrayed how her eyes had been watering.
She looked even more beautiful than before.
“Angel, please escort our guest to the door. It’s getting late,” he said, steadying himself as best he could.
Derek chuckled as he zipped and buttoned himself and refastened his belt.
“Let’s do this again sometime,” he said casually as he reached to grab his ID from the table. “What do you say, Princess?”
Christine’s eyes lit up, and she nodded enthusiastically.
She stood and padded behind him to the door, keeping herself out of view of the hallway as he opened it.
“If I were you, I’d wait before letting him loose,” he mock-whispered to her.
“Goodbye, Derek,” Mark growled, pulling at his wrists again.
Derek simply laughed and tapped Christine on the nose before slipping out the door.
***
Christine paused for a moment to look at herself in the full length mirror after turning the deadbolt on the hotel room door.
Her hair was mussed, her mascara had run, and her lips were swollen from how they had been used.
But the dusty pink lipstick — which now had a matching companion in her flushed cheeks — was still well in place.
They should put that in the Instagram ads, she thought, making herself laugh once more.
“Something funny, Angel?” Mark said, with a hint of dominant menace.
“Oh, nothing,” she said, all but skipping back over to the table. “Just admiring my handiwork.”
She ran her finger along her bottom lip, and Mark’s nostrils flared as his eyes darkened.
This is a dangerous game, she thought to her self, but smiled — she wasn’t quite done acting out.
“Let me out,” Mark ordered.
Christine hummed as she hopped up onto the table, pivoting so she could put her feet in his lap.
“But I want to play again,” she said, adding an overdramatic pout to her lips.
She could see his shoulders and biceps straining through his shirt as Mark growled again and pulled against the cuffs.
“Just one hand. If you win, I set you free,” she said, cheerily throwing her hair over one shoulder. “And if I win … I think I’ll sit here and scroll around our favorite website for a while.”
Even from a distance Christine could see his pupils dilate further.
Either way, they’d both win in the end.
She clumsily shuffled the cards, cursing to herself when she dropped a third of the deck and had to scoop them back up off her lap.
Once satisfied, she dealt two hands of two.
“How about we play this one blind?” She suggested.
Mark nodded, but she could see the growing frustration on his face.
It was beyond hot.
“I think I’ll stand,” she said, and slid her hand to the side. “You?”
“Hit me,” Mark said tightly.
She flipped down a card. Three of diamonds.
“Hit me,” he said again.
“But you don’t…” she protested.
“I said, hit me,” he nearly hissed.
“Suit yourself,” she chirped, flipping down another card. Seven of clubs.
“That’s enough,” he said.
“Great! Let’s see who won,” she said, clapping her hands together and wiggling her toes on his lap.
Mark let out a sound from the back of his throat she decided was the hottest thing she’d ever heard.
“I have…seventeen,” she said, a little deflated, but she recovered quickly.
“And you have…,” she gasped as she flipped over Mark’s cards.
Looking up at her were the Ace of spades — and the King of hearts.
Of course, she thought to herself, almost wistfully.
“Well I don’t know what you see, but that looks like 21 to me, Angel,” Mark said, his tone humorous but laced with promise for what was coming. “I think you have to let me go.”
I’ll never let you go…she thought to herself. When Mark chuckled softly, she realized she must have whispered it out loud.
She hopped off the table and stepped around him, bending over to unfastened the clasp connecting the two cuffs.
As soon as his hands were free, Mark scooped Christine by the waist, plopping her into his lap.
He gently grabbed her chin.
“I’ll never let you go, either, my love,” he said, before drawing her in for a deep kiss.
***
Watching helplessly while his girlfriend gave a blowjob to another man was hot — nearly-came-in-his-pants-might-have-been-the-hottest-thing-he’s-ever-seen hot — but the image in front of him was up there, Mark thought.
After kissing her, he had ordered Christine to climb into the chair backward on her knees, and using the cuffs he removed from his own wrists had secured her to the arms of the chair.
After another trip to the bedroom, he returned with two more cuffs, which he used to then secure her ankles to the arms as well, leaving her in a modified hands-and-knees position on the chair.
“Beautiful,” he said, more to himself than anything, before planting a heavy smack on her backside.
Christine gasped.
“Oh, you didn’t think you’d get away with all of your malfeasance this evening, did you?” he teased.
Smack
“N…no, Master,” she stammered.
Smack
“What are you?” He asked, rubbing her ass before spanking it again.
Smack Smack Smack
“A slut!” Christine cried.
Smack
“Be more specific, my dear,” he crooned.
Smack Smack
“You’re slut!” She ground out, then gasped.
“That’s right. And what happens to sluts?” He asked, fully taunting her now.
“They…”
Smack Smack Smack
“They what?”
“They get spanked!” she said, panting.
Smack
“And?”
Smack
“And tickled!” She cried.
“They do? Hmmm.” Mark mused in a sing-song voice.
Positioning himself behind her, he grabbed Christine’s hips and began tickling her sides mercilessly.
She yelped and tried to twist away in all directions, but her bonds left her little room for escape.
As she simultaneously laughed and groaned at the tickle torture, Mark smiled to himself.
This — this felt right.
Stopping his assault on her sides, he slid his hands down her legs, stopping only to grab the tops of her stockings so he could finally pull them down.
Once her feet were bare to him, he placed a gentle kiss on each, earning him a whimper.
He then began an all out attack with his fingers on her soles and between her toes.
Christine screamed and pulled at her restraints, even scrunching her toes tight to try to keep him out.
“Ah, fuck, ahhh,” she shouted, her curses coming out as a mix of words and laughter.
After not nearly enough minutes, Mark decided he was done torturing at least himself, and stood to unbuckle and remove his belt.
Her collar was in the other room, but he didn’t want to wait, so he gently looped the leather around her neck and pulled the end through the buckle.
Christine moaned.
Smack Smack *Smack Smack
“Whose tickle slut are you?” He asked after spanking her once more.
“Yours, Master!” She cried, resting her head on the back cushion of the chair.
He walked around to face her, and grabbed her chin, lifting her face.
“Good girl. Now open your mouth,” he ordered.
***
Every single one of Christine’s nerves were on fire.
Granted, the ones on her ass felt like they’d been dipped in molten lava, but the sting was already promising to shepherd her into the blissful arms of sub space.
But not yet.
She opened her mouth wide and stuck out her tongue, looking up at Mark.
She loved all his forms — his dad jokes, his singing voice while he cooked one of the three meals he knew how to make, and as she discovered tonight … him struggling while she flirted and pleasured another man — but the unquestionably dominant Mark holding her chin and looking down at her with unfiltered intensity was up there as a favorite.
He guided his cock into her mouth slowly with one hand, the other sliding up from her chin to tangle with her hair.
She closed her eyes and did what she could to lean forward and close the distance, but he paused, pulling back just out of her lips.
“Eyes open. On me,” he ordered, and she obeyed.
Without breaking eye contact, he again began working himself into her mouth.
She whimpered around him, and he hummed in approval.
“That’s my good slut,” he said, still looking in her eyes, but with his brow now. furrowed in concentration.
He let go to allow his cock to fully fill her mouth and throat, and gently grabbed the other side of her head.
“Did you enjoy having another man come in your mouth?” He asked, deadly serious.
Christine blinked, then nodded and hummed “uh huh” the best she could.
“Mmmm. Such a good slut,” he growled, going deeper, but still being gentle.
Christine ran her tongue along his base as he bottomed out and sucked hard.
“Fuck!” He cursed, and pulled out.
“I know what you’re doing, Angel,” he said, panting and taking a step back.
He smoothed her hair behind her ears then returned to his original spot behind her.
Smack
It was the hardest blow he’d dealt all night, and it reverberated through her body, making Christine jump forward as much as her position would allow.
“Please, Master,” she gasped.
She didn’t even know what she was begging for, but as usual — Mark did.
“I know, Angel,” he said, gently, sliding his hand between her legs as he did so.
She moaned, and arched back instinctively into his touch.
“Such a good slut,” he said, but so softly it was more to himself.
She heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper, then with deft fingers Mark slid her thong to one side.
“I’m going to fuck you now, Angel, and I’ve been holding back all night, so I hope you’re ready for me.”
Ready? I’m pretty sure if he isn’t inside me in the next 10 seconds I might actually die, she thought.
He chuckled — her damn inside thoughts becoming outside words again — but obliged, notching his head with her opening and pushing in slowly but all in one go.
Both of them moaned in unison.
Before pulling back out, Mark ran his fingers up over her hips, and waist, and while Christine knew what was coming next, his simultaneous thrust and onslaught of her underarms stole all the air from her lungs.
With her bonds giving her no means of escape, she laughed, cursed, and moaned in varying patterns as he tickled and fucked her into the chair.
Just as she’d begin to get overstimulated, Mark would switch and begin tickling her feet, going back and forth as he set a relentless pace with his thrusts.
She was close, and as her core tightened around him, she hoped he was too.
“Come with me, Angel,” he said into her ear, reaching around between her legs.
With just a few circles of her clit, Christine toppled, screaming, over the edge, and after a few more savage pumps, felt Mark still as he finished.
Christine rested her head against the back of her chair as Mark undid her cuffs, her eyes drooping closed as he scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom.
“I have an idea,” she mumbled into his chest after he settled them into the fluffy bed white covers.
“Oh yeah, what’s that?” He asked, quietly, still breathing hard.
“We should go to Vegas. I’m really good at blackjack,” she said, smiling.
Mark laughed and kissed her on the forehead.
“Deal,” he said.
The End
Perched on the tips of her toes as she leaned over the sink to get close to the bathroom mirror, Christine swiped on one final layer of dusty rose lipstick.
This was the right choice, she thought, gently rubbing her lips together. Red would have been too on the nose for the…
A firm knock on the bathroom door jolted her thoughts.
“How’s it going in there?” Mark asked through the thin wood. “He just texted me that he’s in the lobby.”
“Almost done!” Christine called back, infusing as much lightness into her voice as possible.
Deep breaths, she thought.
This is going to be good for both of us. All of us. Get yourself together!
“What was that last bit? Are you OK?” Mark’s warm voice asked again, sounding slightly farther away.
Realizing she had said at least some of that internal monologue out loud, Christine took her own advice and inhaled deeply.
“Nothing, my love,” she said as she slid open the door and stepped out into the bedroom of the mid-century-styled hotel suite.
***
Her high heels barely made her roughly 5’4”, but Mark could see Christine pulling herself to her full height in a show of confidence.
He looked from those heels — which he simultaneously wanted to rip off and feel digging into his sides, he realized — up her petite form, pausing to study her lips before meeting her eyes.
He could see her nerves, it was true, but excitement danced there too.
“You look lovely, Angel,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said, breaking eye contact to look down at her outfit. She adjusted the leather belt at her waist.
A waist his fingers itched to prod and dance around.
“Are you ready?” He asked — the question loaded with more meaning than the state of her primping.
“Oh, I’m ready,” she said, bringing her eyes back up to meet his gaze.
Big, brown eyes that now held more than a spark of challenge and mischief.
Fuck me, he thought, swallowing hard.
Now I’m the one who needs to get it together.
***
Thump Thump Thump
Christine struggled to follow the conversation over the sound of her pulse in her ears.
She was trying to be charming — she really was — as the now-trio sipped on cocktails and got better acquainted.
Thump Thump Thump
Instead, she would bet her newest show’s entire advertising revenue on the fact they could hear her heart pounding as the two ridiculously-attractive men chatted across the table.
Gambling. How appropriate.
The thought made her snort into her drink.
“Something funny, Princess?”
She jumped as Derek bumped his knee against hers under the table, despite her growing comfort level with the tall, bearded man.
“Oh…I..uh,” she stammered.
She looked over at Mark, hoping to find a suitable response in his dark chocolate eyes.
Instead, the asshole just winked.
“She’s easy to get a laugh out of,” he said, swirling the drink he’d barely touched.
“Aren’t you, Angel?”
And gods help her, despite their company and her commitment to being a good host — Christine just couldn’t help her bratty self.
“With the right stimulation, I suppose,” she said with a dramatic shrug and a surge of unearned confidence.
“But not always,” she said, feigning boredom and looking at her nails.
She risked a glance up at Mark, and immediately knew she’d lit a match.
“Well let’s hope I can crack the code,” Derek said, smiling as he pushed his sleeves up his thick forearms.
Christine looked at him and smiled, but, as she raised her glass to take another sip, slid her gaze back to meet Mark’s.
“We’ll see,” she said, returning his teasing wink — dropping that match into the dry kindling all around them.
***
“Here is how this will go,” Mark said, setting down his glass tumbler to reach for the playing cards in the pocket of his jacket hanging on the back of the chair.
He noticed Christine shift in her seat to get more comfortable, bringing one ankle up to rest on her knee so she could fidget with the buckle of her shoe.
Focus, Mark said to himself, pushing away the thoughts of the last time she wore those heels. How her legs had flinched in his grip as he traced a finger down the exposed edge of her sole.
Damn it, focus. He said to himself again. He’d punish her for her unknowing distraction later.
“It’s basic blackjack, standard rules, but with a few twists,” he said, casually shuffling the deck. “For example, instead of chips, we’ll be playing for something else.”
Across the table, Derek leaned back and angled himself to better face Christine, whose gaze bounced between them.
The two men had been chatting about the logistics of the game for the last few days, so he knew the plan.
“For every hand Derek and I win, we get to pick an item of clothing you lose,” Mark said as he continued shuffling the cards.
Mark could tell by Christine’s nearly imperceptible jump Derek must have bumped her knee under the table. Again.
Mark’s cock jumped.
“Personally, I hope you’re no good at math, Princess,” Derek said, smirking.
Christine dramatically rolled her eyes.
“My CFO may disagree, but I’ve got a handle on the basics,” she quipped with a wry smile — openly flirting with the bearded man now.
Mark cracked his neck, finishing another shuffle with a flourish.
“True as that may be, my dear, that’s where the second twist comes in,” he said.
Christine’s head whipped to face him, eyes wide.
That’s more like it, he thought, enjoying as always the feeling of throwing her off balance.
“In this round, I get to decide whether you hit or stand,” he said, going through one final shuffle while soaking in the outrage Christine was failing to hide, despite her clear desire to appear unruffled by the revelation.
“And they say the house always wins,” Derek laughed, leaning forward now to rest his elbows on the table. “What do you say, Princess? Still game?”
With all the bravado of a lion cub, Christine straightened in her seat before dramatically cracking her knuckles and stretching her arms up over her head — exposing the underarms Mark had plans for later — then bringing them down and folding her hands on the table.
“Deal me in,” she said.
***
“And Christine will take another card,” Mark said, smirking.
Goddammit, she thought, but using every moment of boardroom practice, she tried to school her features into smooth neutrality.
“Mmm, I think we might have her again, man,” Derek said, laughing.
She liked his laugh, and how his green eyes crinkled at the edges when he did, even if it was at her expense.
“You don’t know that,” she said, coyly.
But he did. They both did.
Because that was the game — and why her bare upper thighs were currently protesting the chill of the wooden chair upon which she sat.
Other than her black and red lingerie, thigh-high stockings and heels, Christine was down to just one remaining item of clothing — a thin, black silk camisole.
“I’ll stand,” Derek said, shifting to lean back in his chair.
He did that a lot, Christine noticed.
Not that it isn’t working for him, she thought. Indeed, that comfortable confidence was undeniably hot.
“And I’ll take another,” Mark said.
She wasn’t sure if Derek would notice, but she could see by the set of Mark’s jaw that he must have busted. As much fun as she knew he was having — he hated losing any kind of competition.
“Alright, let’s do this,” he said, a little too shortly.
With a knowing grin, Derek flipped his cards on the table.
“Nineteen,” he said.
Mark swore under his breath and flipped over his hand — which totaled 22.
Still, it was better than the 26 she was looking at.
“Let’s see them, Princess,” Derek said, the double entendre dancing in his eyes.
Christine scrunched her nose and looked at her cards.
Then, she had an idea.
Not a good idea, mind you, but what did she really have to lose?
“Um, no thanks,” she said quietly, not looking up at her companions, but watching their reactions in her peripheral vision.
Derek cocked his head to one side, clearly amused, while Mark raised a dark eyebrow.
“What was that, Angel?” Mark asked. He was rolling up the cuffs of his black button down, but she could tell he was watching her intently.
“I think I’ll keep the result to myself, thanks,” she said as she slowly — and she hoped imperceptibly — shifted her legs out of their crossed position.
“I don’t think…” Derek began, but was unable to finish before Christine launched out of her chair and away from the table.
Thanks to years of practice running around sets in heels similar to the ones she had on, she actually made it four or five steps before two strong arms snagged her around the waist.
“Oh no you don’t,” Mark said into the nape of her neck. “Tell me what you have.”
“No!” Christine grunted as she struggled, but he held her so just the tips of her toes touched the floor.
“Oh, Angel, wrong answer,” he chuckled.
Having trapped her wrists in front of her, Mark was able to hold her to his chest with one arm while the fingers of his other hand began their assault on her side.
Christine squealed as he tickled her, kicking her legs out and trying to twist away to no avail.
“I’ll take those,” Derek, who had stepped up beside them, crooned as he snatched the cards from her hand.
Marin paused his tickling, but left his fingers splayed on Christine’s stomach.
“Twenty-six, ouch,” Derek said with a chuckle.
Mark tutted in her ear.
Christine only huffed.
“Seeing as you look so good in those stockings, Princess, I think I’ll take this,” Derek said as he ran a finger under the fabric of her thin top.
“Fine,” Christine sighed, relaxing in Mark’s grip.
She raised her arms as he let her go, and Derek took the opportunity to slowly lift the camisole over her head before heading triumphantly back to his seat.
“Good girl,” Mark whispered in her ear before kissing the crown of her head and leading her back to the table.
***
Having glimpsed the red and black lingerie she planned to wear, Mark had been surprised Christine went with a pink lipstick.
Now, he couldn’t be more glad she had as the shade so nearly matched the color of her ass.
The woman he loved was draped over Derek’s lap while he laid smack after smack into her round backside — adding to the handsome handprints he had left there several minutes ago.
He shifted in his own seat to accommodate how aroused the scene made him.
“OK, time for the next hand,” he said, his voice rougher than he would have liked.
Derek tipped Christine back into her own chair with ease and her hands came up to swat the hair out of her face.
She was deliciously rumpled — mascara smudged at the corners of her eyes and her face flushed — but he could tell by how wide her pupils were that she was turned on too.
This time, he prevailed, and after ceremoniously fanning his five card Charlie on the table, looked at Christine and tapped his lap, beckoning her.
She obeyed, her earlier brattiness tamed for the moment, and perched sideways on his lap.
“No, no, turn around so your back is to me,” he said.
When she complied, he grabbed her wrists and pulled her arms up so her hands were behind her head.
“Clasp your fingers, and don’t take your arms down until I give you permission,” he said sternly.
“Yes Master,” Christine whispered, eyes closed.
He slowly trailed his hands back down her arms, pulling away just enough that his fingertips grazed her triceps and underarms.
Christine flinched and gasped, but kept her hands tightly clasped behind her neck.
Upon reaching her ribs, Mark began applying more pressure, making her jump and lean forward on instinct.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He said, pulling her back.
Once she was still, he began again, this time more aggressively tickling both sides of her waist.
Christine laughed, this time forcefully leaning back and kicking her legs out in front of her.
Mark shifted her to one side of his lap, allowing him to trap her legs between his while he continued to tickle her.
He’d just about given up hope she’d lose control when one of Christine’s arms swiped down to grab his wrist where it wriggled on her hip.
“Oh Angel, what did I say about those hands?”
Before she could respond, he grabbed her thighs and flipped her over so she was draped over his lap.
He could feel her bracing for a smack, so instead he traced lazy figure eights around her thighs — which he could tell by her trembling were now sensitive enough to be ticklish too.
Smack
Mark smiled as Christine let out a cross between a curse and a moan.
Smack Smack Smack
“Are you ready for the final round?” He asked her, looking up to wink at Derek.
“Yes,” she said, breathless.
Smack
“Yes, Master,” she corrected.
“Better,” he said as he pulled her back up into his lap.
“And fitting — because for the final round, we are playing for that smart mouth of yours,” he announced.
Mark took a moment to really look into her eyes, scanning for any fear or hesitation, but saw none.
Instead, he saw hunger.
“I’m ready,” Christine whispered.
***
Heart racing, Christine moved to hop off of Mark’s lap and retake her seat, but his hands gripped her hips.
“I have a better idea,” he said.
With zero effort thanks to his athletic build, he hoisted her up and onto the wooden surface of the table.
“Not sure this is regulation, but I’m not complaining,” Derek said, eyebrows raised.
Mark cleared the table of their drinks and gathered up the cards from the last hand before setting them between Christine’s knees.
“Stay here,” he said to her, sternly.
Too stunned from being tossed onto the table, she watched as he walked into the bedroom of their suite.
“Having fun?” Derek asked.
She nodded.
From their brief albeit intense interactions that evening, she could tell he was nice.
And hot.
This is the craziest thing I’ve ever done, she thought to herself.
But despite the eyebrows it might raise, being handed back and forth between these two men to be tickled, spanked and now face-fucked at the whim of Lady Luck had Christine shaking with arousal.
After a few moments where she could hear him rummaging through his bag, Mark returned to the table.
In one hand he held two leather cuffs while the other tucked something into his back pocket.
Instinctively, Christine held out her wrists.
“Good girl,” Mark whispered as he clasped a cuff to each one.
“Now, sit up with your hands behind your back,” he said.
She complied, and he reached around to fasten the cuffs together.
After pulling a few times to make sure they were secure, Mark turned to their companion.
“Derek, as our guest, will you do the honors of removing her shoes?”
“Gladly,” the tall man replied, grabbing Christine’s knees and swiveling her to better face him.
With a salacious grin, Derek raised her left ankle, slowly unbuckling the two clasps of her high heel before sliding it off.
Keeping her left in his hand, he pulled up the right to join it, balancing her slender ankle on his thumb while removing the second shoe.
Christine held her breath, trying to sit absolutely still. With how ticklish her feet were and how keyed up she was, she knew the slightest touch would make her legs jump, even while wearing nylons.
“May I?” Derek asked, but he was looking at Mark, and Christine whipped her face to look at him, too.
He nodded.
Before she could turn back to him, Derek gripped each ankle and leaned down, pressing his face into her soles.
Despite the stockings covering them, her soles were immediately twitching as his beard grazed them.
Her eyes never leaving Mark’s, she gasped.
“Oh, these feet are just ticklish as you said. And as hot,” Derek said, inhaling.
Christine could feel his hot breath as he exhaled onto her soles, but the look on Mark’s face had her full attention.
Absolute carnal fire burned in his dark eyes, and he reached down to palm himself while she watched.
“Beautiful, Princess,” Derek said, lowering her legs back down to the table.
She turned to him and smiled.
“Thank you,” she said, breathless.
Mark cleared his throat.
“Excellent. Now, Angel, cross your legs and get comfortable. Derek, can I have your driver’s license?”
Puzzled, but too intrigued — and turned on — to disobey, Christine crossed her legs in front of her while Derek fished out his ID and Mark pulled his own from his back pocket.
Taking the two small plastic cards, he placed one on each of her knees.
“Don’t let these drop,” he said.
Again feeling a boldness she had no idea of the origin, Christine tipped her head to one side and raised an eyebrow.
“Or what, Master?” She asked, over-emphasizing last word.
Nostrils flaring at the resurgence of her bratty tone, Mark smiled.
“I was hoping you would ask. See, this time, we’re playing to ten — first man to win ten hands wins that mouth of yours,” he said, raising a hand to run his thumb along her bottom lip.
“But to make it more interesting, there will still be a back and forth. Each time you let one of those IDs fall, the lucky guy it belongs to takes control of this.”
Without breaking eye contact, Mark pulled out the items she had seen him stow away in his pocket: A flat vibrator designed to slip into one’s underwear, and a remote.
“Oh hell yeah,” Derek said, rubbing his hands together.
“You accept these terms, Angel?” Mark asked, really looking into her eyes again.
Without hesitation, Christine nodded.
Mark gave her a quick peck on the lips before sliding the hand with the vibrator down her torso, giving her stomach a quick tickle before sliding it into her underwear.
Giggling at being tickled and gasping at the contact with her clit, Christine tipped her head back.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Mark said.
She lifted her head back up to look at him.
I should have known there’d be another twist, she thought, and the smirk on his face told her Mark could read that thought right across hers.
“Since I got to decide if you hit or stand in the first round, I thought it would only be fair if you got to do that for us this time. So be sure to pay attention.”
With that, he clicked the remote and brought the vibrator to life, making Christine jolt and instinctively pull her knees more together.
The movement sent both IDs clattering to the table, and both men chuckled.
“I suppose in the case of a draw, I’ll defer to our guest,” Mark said, sliding the remote across the table to Derek before righting the IDs back on her knees.
“Let’s play, Princess,” Derek said with a wink.
***
After winning the first hand, Mark had suggested an additional twist — each man would be dealt his first two cards but not loom at them, instead showing them to Christine and tucking them into the cups of her bra. Then, she’d play for them, hitting or standing, in an even attempt to get both hands a win. Then they’d turn over each card for everyone to see.
She’d kept her cool at first — breathing to steady herself as each of them had toyed with the remote thanks to the involuntary shaking of her legs sending each of their licenses to the table or floor a handful of times.
But the more worked up she got, Mark could tell it was becoming increasingly challenging for Christine to weigh the pros and cons of deciding whether they should get another card.
He wasn’t sure if she was also able to keep score in her head, but this hand would be a decisive one — with Derek’s last victorious hand bringing him to nine wins to Mark’s eight.
Mark still had control of the remote, and he backed down the intensity of the vibrations.
“Ready to go again, Angel?” He asked.
Christine swallowed, and as he watched her throat bob he could see where her hair was sticking to her neck thanks to the sweat beading there.
She was close, and he had a plan.
Maybe it was hubris. Maybe he just wanted to hear her moans as she shattered on the table.
Or maybe, deep down, he actually wanted to lose.
Either way, as he leaned forward to show her his cards and tuck them against her chest, he brushed her hair back and gently traced a finger down her neck, across her shoulder and down the back of her arm.
He could see the goosebumps follow his path.
“Guest first — what will it be?” He asked.
“Stand,” she all but whispered.
Mark looked over at Derek, who raised an eyebrow but said nothing as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through his beard.
“Ok, and what about for me?” Mark asked, now lightly scratching his fingernails down her ribs.
The movement landed as he knew it would, and she squirmed away from the tickling movement, but the IDs stayed perched on each knee this time.
“Umm…I think..uh,” she said, stammering as Mark methodically clicked the remote with his other hand, increasing the intensity of the vibration against her clit little by little.
“You think, what?” He teased, poking her in the ribs this time.
As he clicked to the next level, Mark added his other fingers between her ribs, and Christine moaned, throwing her head back.
“Here’s what’s going to happen, Angel,” he said firmly. “You’re going to come, and when you do, you will tell me whether I’m getting another card.”
She nodded, her eyes squeezed shut.
Mark flipped the vibrator to its highest setting and dropped the remote, allowing him to slip his hand between her legs and press the toy harder into her center.
At the same time, he ran his fingers around her ribs like he was playing a piano, and with a cry, Christine’s body went rigid.
“Hit!” She screamed, then tilted slightly forward as she gasped for air.
Mark clicked the remote to turn the vibrator off and dealt himself another card.
Then, he reached over and unfastened the clasp holding Christine’s cuffed wrists together.
She braced herself on her palms, her chest still rising and falling rapidly.
Mark looked over at Derek, who was still stroking his beard, but who had a satisfied bent to his expression he was sure his own face mirrored.
“Shall we see the results?” Derek asked, his voice calm but rougher than it had been earlier.
“Show us the cards, Angel,” Mark said.
Pushing herself back up, Christine pulled each hand from her bra and laid it face up on the table in front of her.
Derek had a Jack and an eight.
He had a six and a seven.
He had to give it to her, even after an hour of edging and in the midst of being tickled to orgasm, Christine had played to win.
“Let’s see what you hit me with, then,” he said.
And flipped what could only be a cheeky wink from the universe.
He’d busted at the hand of the queen of hearts.
“Well, well, well,” Derek said, victory lacing each syllable, “I guess the house doesn’t always win.”
Mark chuckled.
“A bet’s a bet,” he said. “But I’ll need your help with something first.”
Christine to him, blinking in confusion, but he motioned for her to hold up her wrists.
Gently, Mark undid the cuffs which were now warm from her skin, and kissed each wrist.
Then, he watched as her eyes widened when he began fastening them to his own.
“You’re going to suck his cock, Angel,” he said, somewhat hoarsely, “And I’m going to watch, unable to do anything about it.”
He nodded at Derek — who, the bastard, had gleefully figured out what he was up to without having to ask — and the tall man walked around the table, stepping behind Mark’s chair.
Crouching down, he clipped the cuffs together where Mark had wrapped his arms around the chair behind him.
Standing again, Derek rounded the table again, but instead of stopping at his own chair, pulled out the one Christine had originally occupied — the one now directly in Mark’s line of sight.
Once seated, Derek raised his hand to her.
“My lady,” he said — a statement, Mark noted, not a question.
With one last quick glance in his direction, Christine took his hand and hopped off the table, landing between Derek’s knees.
Thump Thump Thump
Mark’s heart began pounding as Christine slowly lowered herself to the floor, bracing herself on Derek’s thighs.
“You look even prettier down there than you did up on that table,” he said to her, and she giggled.
God, Mark loved that sound. His cock was already hard — had been for however long this marathon game of blackjack had been going — and he knew it was only going to get worse.
Emboldened, Christine slid her hands up Derek’s thighs and undid his belt, button and zipper with deft fingers, and it was soon clear to Mark his fellow card player had been enjoying things just as much.
“That’s it,” Derek said as she wrapped her small hand around his length and lowered her head to lick the tip.
Mark knew from experience how good that felt — and how much his girl loved that kind of praise.
He didn’t miss how she tightened her thighs to attempt to get some friction.
“Nope, knees apart,” he ordered, and despite having her hand around and lips centimeters from another man’s dick, she obeyed immediately, widening her kneeling stance.
“Such a good slut,” Derek said, snaking his fingers into her hair.
Taking it as her cue, Christine lowered her face and wrapped her lips around his cock.
All three of them moaned, and Mark pulled lightly at his restraints.
Christine worked Derek’s cock up and down with her hand and mouth, guiding him deeper until she had only her index finger and thumb still assisting.
“Hands behind your back,” Mark ordered, and again she immediately complied, sending a jolt straight to the base of his spine.
I will NOT come in my pants, Mark thought to himself while clenching his teeth. He had to draw the line somewhere.
Derek took the opportunity and slid his other hand into Christine’s dark hair, clearly holding firm but still letting her set the pace.
From his view, Mark could see her eyes close as she hollowed out her cheeks and — he guessed — whirled her tongue along the underside of Derek’s cock.
“Fuck, that’s good,” he gritted out, fingers tightening noticeably.
The praise elicited a moan from Christine, and Mark realized he was pulling hard enough on his restraints that he’d leave marks.
Good, he thought. He wanted another reminder this happened, even if it would fade in a day or two.
As Christine continued to bob up and down, Derek’s grip on her head became more possessive, and he was soon thrusting up into her mouth to meet her.
“I’m close, Princess,” he panted, “You ready for me to give it to you?”
Christine nodded as best she could and hummed an affirmative tone as Derek looked up at Mark.
Mark nodded, his cock screaming against his zipper, and then focused back on Christine, sliding his gaze from her head down to where he could see her toes curling from her own state of arousal.
“Fuck, fuck, Fuck!” Derek grunted as he thrust the last few times into Christine’s mouth, then stilled.
She visibly swallowed.
Derek collapsed back into the chair, and Christine rocked back on her heels, panting and wiping her lips with her thumb and forefinger.
She turned to look at Mark, and he could see where her makeup betrayed how her eyes had been watering.
She looked even more beautiful than before.
“Angel, please escort our guest to the door. It’s getting late,” he said, steadying himself as best he could.
Derek chuckled as he zipped and buttoned himself and refastened his belt.
“Let’s do this again sometime,” he said casually as he reached to grab his ID from the table. “What do you say, Princess?”
Christine’s eyes lit up, and she nodded enthusiastically.
She stood and padded behind him to the door, keeping herself out of view of the hallway as he opened it.
“If I were you, I’d wait before letting him loose,” he mock-whispered to her.
“Goodbye, Derek,” Mark growled, pulling at his wrists again.
Derek simply laughed and tapped Christine on the nose before slipping out the door.
***
Christine paused for a moment to look at herself in the full length mirror after turning the deadbolt on the hotel room door.
Her hair was mussed, her mascara had run, and her lips were swollen from how they had been used.
But the dusty pink lipstick — which now had a matching companion in her flushed cheeks — was still well in place.
They should put that in the Instagram ads, she thought, making herself laugh once more.
“Something funny, Angel?” Mark said, with a hint of dominant menace.
“Oh, nothing,” she said, all but skipping back over to the table. “Just admiring my handiwork.”
She ran her finger along her bottom lip, and Mark’s nostrils flared as his eyes darkened.
This is a dangerous game, she thought to her self, but smiled — she wasn’t quite done acting out.
“Let me out,” Mark ordered.
Christine hummed as she hopped up onto the table, pivoting so she could put her feet in his lap.
“But I want to play again,” she said, adding an overdramatic pout to her lips.
She could see his shoulders and biceps straining through his shirt as Mark growled again and pulled against the cuffs.
“Just one hand. If you win, I set you free,” she said, cheerily throwing her hair over one shoulder. “And if I win … I think I’ll sit here and scroll around our favorite website for a while.”
Even from a distance Christine could see his pupils dilate further.
Either way, they’d both win in the end.
She clumsily shuffled the cards, cursing to herself when she dropped a third of the deck and had to scoop them back up off her lap.
Once satisfied, she dealt two hands of two.
“How about we play this one blind?” She suggested.
Mark nodded, but she could see the growing frustration on his face.
It was beyond hot.
“I think I’ll stand,” she said, and slid her hand to the side. “You?”
“Hit me,” Mark said tightly.
She flipped down a card. Three of diamonds.
“Hit me,” he said again.
“But you don’t…” she protested.
“I said, hit me,” he nearly hissed.
“Suit yourself,” she chirped, flipping down another card. Seven of clubs.
“That’s enough,” he said.
“Great! Let’s see who won,” she said, clapping her hands together and wiggling her toes on his lap.
Mark let out a sound from the back of his throat she decided was the hottest thing she’d ever heard.
“I have…seventeen,” she said, a little deflated, but she recovered quickly.
“And you have…,” she gasped as she flipped over Mark’s cards.
Looking up at her were the Ace of spades — and the King of hearts.
Of course, she thought to herself, almost wistfully.
“Well I don’t know what you see, but that looks like 21 to me, Angel,” Mark said, his tone humorous but laced with promise for what was coming. “I think you have to let me go.”
I’ll never let you go…she thought to herself. When Mark chuckled softly, she realized she must have whispered it out loud.
She hopped off the table and stepped around him, bending over to unfastened the clasp connecting the two cuffs.
As soon as his hands were free, Mark scooped Christine by the waist, plopping her into his lap.
He gently grabbed her chin.
“I’ll never let you go, either, my love,” he said, before drawing her in for a deep kiss.
***
Watching helplessly while his girlfriend gave a blowjob to another man was hot — nearly-came-in-his-pants-might-have-been-the-hottest-thing-he’s-ever-seen hot — but the image in front of him was up there, Mark thought.
After kissing her, he had ordered Christine to climb into the chair backward on her knees, and using the cuffs he removed from his own wrists had secured her to the arms of the chair.
After another trip to the bedroom, he returned with two more cuffs, which he used to then secure her ankles to the arms as well, leaving her in a modified hands-and-knees position on the chair.
“Beautiful,” he said, more to himself than anything, before planting a heavy smack on her backside.
Christine gasped.
“Oh, you didn’t think you’d get away with all of your malfeasance this evening, did you?” he teased.
Smack
“N…no, Master,” she stammered.
Smack
“What are you?” He asked, rubbing her ass before spanking it again.
Smack Smack Smack
“A slut!” Christine cried.
Smack
“Be more specific, my dear,” he crooned.
Smack Smack
“You’re slut!” She ground out, then gasped.
“That’s right. And what happens to sluts?” He asked, fully taunting her now.
“They…”
Smack Smack Smack
“They what?”
“They get spanked!” she said, panting.
Smack
“And?”
Smack
“And tickled!” She cried.
“They do? Hmmm.” Mark mused in a sing-song voice.
Positioning himself behind her, he grabbed Christine’s hips and began tickling her sides mercilessly.
She yelped and tried to twist away in all directions, but her bonds left her little room for escape.
As she simultaneously laughed and groaned at the tickle torture, Mark smiled to himself.
This — this felt right.
Stopping his assault on her sides, he slid his hands down her legs, stopping only to grab the tops of her stockings so he could finally pull them down.
Once her feet were bare to him, he placed a gentle kiss on each, earning him a whimper.
He then began an all out attack with his fingers on her soles and between her toes.
Christine screamed and pulled at her restraints, even scrunching her toes tight to try to keep him out.
“Ah, fuck, ahhh,” she shouted, her curses coming out as a mix of words and laughter.
After not nearly enough minutes, Mark decided he was done torturing at least himself, and stood to unbuckle and remove his belt.
Her collar was in the other room, but he didn’t want to wait, so he gently looped the leather around her neck and pulled the end through the buckle.
Christine moaned.
Smack Smack *Smack Smack
“Whose tickle slut are you?” He asked after spanking her once more.
“Yours, Master!” She cried, resting her head on the back cushion of the chair.
He walked around to face her, and grabbed her chin, lifting her face.
“Good girl. Now open your mouth,” he ordered.
***
Every single one of Christine’s nerves were on fire.
Granted, the ones on her ass felt like they’d been dipped in molten lava, but the sting was already promising to shepherd her into the blissful arms of sub space.
But not yet.
She opened her mouth wide and stuck out her tongue, looking up at Mark.
She loved all his forms — his dad jokes, his singing voice while he cooked one of the three meals he knew how to make, and as she discovered tonight … him struggling while she flirted and pleasured another man — but the unquestionably dominant Mark holding her chin and looking down at her with unfiltered intensity was up there as a favorite.
He guided his cock into her mouth slowly with one hand, the other sliding up from her chin to tangle with her hair.
She closed her eyes and did what she could to lean forward and close the distance, but he paused, pulling back just out of her lips.
“Eyes open. On me,” he ordered, and she obeyed.
Without breaking eye contact, he again began working himself into her mouth.
She whimpered around him, and he hummed in approval.
“That’s my good slut,” he said, still looking in her eyes, but with his brow now. furrowed in concentration.
He let go to allow his cock to fully fill her mouth and throat, and gently grabbed the other side of her head.
“Did you enjoy having another man come in your mouth?” He asked, deadly serious.
Christine blinked, then nodded and hummed “uh huh” the best she could.
“Mmmm. Such a good slut,” he growled, going deeper, but still being gentle.
Christine ran her tongue along his base as he bottomed out and sucked hard.
“Fuck!” He cursed, and pulled out.
“I know what you’re doing, Angel,” he said, panting and taking a step back.
He smoothed her hair behind her ears then returned to his original spot behind her.
Smack
It was the hardest blow he’d dealt all night, and it reverberated through her body, making Christine jump forward as much as her position would allow.
“Please, Master,” she gasped.
She didn’t even know what she was begging for, but as usual — Mark did.
“I know, Angel,” he said, gently, sliding his hand between her legs as he did so.
She moaned, and arched back instinctively into his touch.
“Such a good slut,” he said, but so softly it was more to himself.
She heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper, then with deft fingers Mark slid her thong to one side.
“I’m going to fuck you now, Angel, and I’ve been holding back all night, so I hope you’re ready for me.”
Ready? I’m pretty sure if he isn’t inside me in the next 10 seconds I might actually die, she thought.
He chuckled — her damn inside thoughts becoming outside words again — but obliged, notching his head with her opening and pushing in slowly but all in one go.
Both of them moaned in unison.
Before pulling back out, Mark ran his fingers up over her hips, and waist, and while Christine knew what was coming next, his simultaneous thrust and onslaught of her underarms stole all the air from her lungs.
With her bonds giving her no means of escape, she laughed, cursed, and moaned in varying patterns as he tickled and fucked her into the chair.
Just as she’d begin to get overstimulated, Mark would switch and begin tickling her feet, going back and forth as he set a relentless pace with his thrusts.
She was close, and as her core tightened around him, she hoped he was too.
“Come with me, Angel,” he said into her ear, reaching around between her legs.
With just a few circles of her clit, Christine toppled, screaming, over the edge, and after a few more savage pumps, felt Mark still as he finished.
Christine rested her head against the back of her chair as Mark undid her cuffs, her eyes drooping closed as he scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom.
“I have an idea,” she mumbled into his chest after he settled them into the fluffy bed white covers.
“Oh yeah, what’s that?” He asked, quietly, still breathing hard.
“We should go to Vegas. I’m really good at blackjack,” she said, smiling.
Mark laughed and kissed her on the forehead.
“Deal,” he said.
The End
