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Sandrine's Bet Ch. 01

By: BONNIEBREA



Author's Note

This is the re-imagining of story called Lucia Makes a Bet by visioneer. It was posted here in March, 2012, although I found it on another site when he re-posted it there in November, 2013.

Visioneer's story is very well-written; has an interesting premise; and has great characters, plot, and dialogue. So there was certainly no need to play with a story so well-composed. But the premise was, as it were, right up my alley, and I had some ideas to take the characters and story in a different direction. I contacted Visioneer and he generously extended his permission for me to re-work the story. Visioneer's story was based on a character, Lucia, that was developed by another author here, Gimmie_Your_Load. A good deal of my re-imaging of the story involved significant changes to the main protagonist, Lucia. In fact, the Lucia character, for my purposes, needed to be so greatly changed that I re-named the character. But I contacted GYL anyway, and she also generously extended permission to work with a character at least very loosely based on hers.

I ended up posting the story at another site, although under my other pen name, B. E. Thalia, and I thought it should also be presented here.

I was attracted to Lucia Makes a Bet because I've written a series of similarly premised stories called Taking Chances. They are about people who for various reasons - sound or unsound, impulsive or considered - make a wager and how the result of that wager, win or lose, has consequences and impacts on their self-image, relationships, and other aspects of their real world lives. This re-imagining of Lucia Makes a Bet takes that story in the same direction as those of Taking Chances.

If you enjoy this story then you will also very much enjoy Lucia Makes a Bet, visioneer's original version of this tale. And GYL has developed some excellent stories based on her Lucia character. 

But, especially for authors, this might all be illustrative of how different authors can take essentially the same characters and plot and turn them into distinct stories with very different feels, character dynamics, and story lines.

The story is presented in six chapters.

Your comments and observations, both public and by message, are welcomed (which is the polite way of saying: Don't be a greedhead and merely suck in stories, but extend the small effort it takes to give back to the people who are providing you with free content). 

*

All of this happened six months ago. I suppose to someone outside the experience looking in, as you are, the episode itself would be unforgettable and terribly erotic: so far outside what normally takes place at a social get-together that just the novelty of the situation would lend it the ability to enthrall and arouse. All I really care about is that at the end of it all Sandrine and I were together. For me that's the hottest part. 

It was a brisk November Sunday in Calgary. In the States it was Thanksgiving weekend, but Canadian Thanksgiving was six weeks past. In Alberta 'brisk' is at the warm end of the scale for autumn or winter. For November brisk means 0F to 20F degrees. 'Cold' is below zero by not too much. The scale continues with 'frigid', 'arctic,' and 'Shit! My ears just snapped off!'

Sandrine and I were up from Dallas, in our second month of a half-year job in Calgary. We work for a company that does contract work in oil field consulting and support services. In consulting, especially in the oil patch, execs like us don't punch a clock. Our days are often long, but we typically have our weekends free. This Sunday we had an invitation from Keith, one of the platform drillers we saw from time to time. He'd invited us and his crew to his house to watch the hometown Calgary Flames play the Dallas Stars. My first thought had been: the Dallas whats? I'm getting ahead of myself, though.

* * * * *

The night before the get-together we were at a Calgary watering hole. The dinner we'd eaten downtown beforehand was fabulous, and we'd come here for what Keith told us was the best music and dancing in Calgary. Our group consisted of Sandrine and me, Keith and his long-time girlfriend Danielle, and one of the guys on Keith's crew, Reilly, and his squeeze, Larissa.

That professional hockey exists in Dallas was something of which I think I might have been dimly aware. Sandrine made sure I was informed.

"Of course, numb nuts," Sandrine said. We were sitting in a large booth, just the two of us. The other four were dancing. "They even won the Stanley Cup in '99." 

That 'numb nuts' business was just Sandrine being Sandrine. She has a bit of a potty mouth and likes to throw around the sexually demeaning sobriquets with abandon. Sometimes I think I should try to give it back, but what you learn as a little kid stays with you, and one of the things I'd learned is that you don't hit girls or call them names. Really, she didn't mean anything by it. I'd been with the company for seven years, she for five, and she'd always been like that, even as a newbie.

But you don't fire Sandrine. Unless you're blind. She's 29, raven-haired, and stunningly good looking in a vaguely Mediterranean way. Sandrine combines the sharper features of people on the northern side of the Mediterranean with the beautiful, darker coloring of those south of it. She's on the high end of five to six feet. I'd tell you she's thin, but she's too healthy for that. She has some meat on her, but it's all lean. I've occasionally wondered what she does for an exercise regimen. Whatever it is, it's working. Oh, and she's smart - in truth, naturally smarter than I am, and I consider myself no slouch - and knows the oil business from every angle there is to know it. 

"Didn't you know that?" she asked. I just shrugged.

Dallas has the NFL Cowboys, a team that has been to the Super Bowl eight times and won five. The MLB Rangers have gone to the World Series in two of the last five years. The NBA Mavericks won it all in 2011. The Dallas Stars?

"How do you know about them?" I asked.

"Hockey's my thing. I grew up on the Michigan UP with four brothers, two older and two younger. Just seven years from oldest to youngest. It was learn how to skate and steal the puck off their stick or get lost in the shuffle. So I learned and found out I liked it."

Talk about revelations! I'd known her since she started, and in the last couple of years we'd begun to get closer in a platonic way, but she'd never shared anything like this. I liked the getting closer part, and I'd happily dispense with that platonic business. I'm usually confident with the fair sex, but Sandrine is one beautiful woman, and uncharacteristically I questioned whether I really had a shot. I could imagine her shooting me down as surely as the Red Baron with a bead on Snoopy. Yes, my degree of self-assurance was a parachute that would bring me safely back to earth. Maybe under it all I just wanted to maintain the illusion that Sandrine was attainable. If I made a move and she swatted me my mirage would evaporate leaving only dust and disappointment.

"Did you play organized hockey?"

"Yeah, there was a girl's league, and I played in high school and college. I've got my trophy shelf. These days it's in a women's league."

"You play hockey now?"

"Man, you're slow on the uptake, Michael. Yeah, there's a Dallas-Fort Worth women's league. I'm a right winger. It beats walkin' on a treadmill. Of course, I can't play on my team this year, but there's a women's league here and I've been thinking of seeing if I can find a place on a team. "

"So, you're a Stars fan?"

"Big time. It's the only show in town. I've got this Stars jersey autographed by everyone on this year's roster. I'll wear it tomorrow."

A song ended and the other four returned to the table. Danielle excused herself to the ladies room and Larissa said she'd tag along. When Danielle asked Sandrine if she wanted to make it a threesome she begged off.

After the girls were gone the band started into another song. Sandrine called across the table, "Keith, you wanna?" She made dancing motions in her seat.

Keith shrugged. "Sure."

They got up and joined a number of other couples on the dance floor.

Reilly and I started talking about nothing special, oil patch chit-chat. The Republican governor and legislature in Alaska had passed a new law that sharply cut oil taxes. They'd supposedly done it to get the oil companies to invest in Alaska oil fields and increase production. But the law set no requirements for new production for the cuts to kick in. The companies had to do nothing to get their two billion dollars a year in tax cuts. Nothing but a welfare handout. We shook our heads. Where do you find politicians that stupid? Of course, often stupidity is the least of it. The oil industry isn't above buying the politicians they need, usually Republicans and usually by the dozen.

While we talked, my attention occasionally settled on the band. Our conversation faltered and I guess Reilly's gaze drifted to Keith and Sandrine dancing.

"Sandrine and Keith got something going?" Reilly asked

"Not that I've heard of," I answered. Reilly tapped my arm and gestured toward the dance floor. 

Sandrine and Keith were about in the middle of the space, gyrating to a fast song. Sandrine spent a lot of time with her knees deeply bent, her head at about the level of Keith's belt. She also tended to move in, dancing much closer to him than one usually does on a song like this, even when there is a relationship between the dance partners. When she wasn't near Keith's crotch or in his face she was facing away from him, bent at the waist, and shaking her ass, like an invitation for Keith to plow her field from behind.

"That can't be good," I said.

Reilly nodded.

Then Danielle and Larissa were back and sliding their bottoms onto the booth's benches. 

"Did Keith go somewh....." Danielle began to ask as her gaze shifted around the room. "What the fuck!" she said as she saw Keith and Sandrine.

The song ended a few seconds later and Keith and Sandrine excused themselves past other dancers on their way back to our booth. Sandrine had a hand on Keith's shoulder, and they were laughing about something.

Before they reached the booth Danielle was on her feet with her coat in hand.

"We're leaving," Danielle said to Keith.

"Kind of early. Don't you think?" Keith said.

"I said, 'we're leaving,'" Danielle said, and this time Keith got the idea there was something up.

I thought it strange that Sandrine piped up then. Danielle hadn't said anything to her, nor had she enunciated what the issue was, but Sandrine said, "We were just dancing," and she said it with more aggression than defensiveness in her voice.

"You just shut the fuck up," Danielle said to Sandrine without turning toward her, trying not to engage. "Keith, I said we're going." Danielle started toward the exit. 

Keith shrugged, found his coat, drained his beer, and went after Danielle.

"Gonna be some car ride home, eh?" Reilly observed.

* * * * *

"So, what was that about last night?" I asked Sandrine. I'd picked her up at her place, and we were on the way to Keith's on Sunday afternoon for the game.

"What was what about?" Sandrine said with an exaggerated innocence that said she knew exactly what 'what' was. "Oh, sure. Hey, he's not a half bad looking guy. Remember that job in Wyoming we worked for a few months a couple summers ago? I got into something there with a guy from one of the rigs. Man, did he ever know how to drill."

"Danielle?"

"Yeah? Danielle?"

"That's not being a very good neighbor to the South, Sandrine. Coming up here and deciding you're going to be a home wrecker."

"Who says I want wreck any homes? I just want to get to know the guy. I think he's someone I could get into something with. Maybe. If Danielle can't hold onto him then tough titties for her. You know, douchebag?"

"Hey, Sandrine, this isn't just about you. Come on, you're no dumb-dumb. You know horning in on some established relationship could make the next four months really uncomfortable."

She was silent for a while.

"Yeah, I know that," she finally said. "Maybe it was just the tequila dancing. I got pretty buzzed last night."

"Okay, well, you're a big girl. I can't tell you what to do or not do. But you should probably steer clear of Danielle today. Maybe you should consider not going. I can take you back home and give Keith your regrets."

"And miss the Stars beat up on the Flames. Or watch by myself? No way. I want to be there to rub it in when the puck starts hitting the back of the Flames' net. If Danielle wants to get into something she'll get as good as she gives."

I couldn't do any more than throw my hands up in the air, figuratively anyway: I was driving.

* * * * *

Keith answered the door and stood back to let us pass. Sandrine entered first. I wordlessly pointed at Sandrine and raised my eyebrows - 'Is this going to be cool?' Keith made a dismissive gesture with a hand and shook his head - 'Not to worry.'

We put our outdoor gear in a spare bedroom with all the other coats. It looked like everyone was already accounted for. Keith had a team of ten and they were all ranged around the living room on a couch, some upholstered chairs, a few kitchen chairs, on the floor. There were two love seats, both empty. One was ninety degrees to the couch, and I assumed reserved for Keith and Danielle. The other was behind the couch and had different upholstery, likely an addition from another room. It was also unoccupied. Beers bottles, including already a number of empties, and snacks were on the coffee table and end tables. 

Sandrine's entry into the room was accompanied by razzing and decidedly impolite references to the Dallas Stars: a reaction to the team jersey she proudly modelled. The primary color of the jersey was some sort of green. Whether it was aqua, aquamarine, turquoise, blue-green I could only guess. Sandrine informed me later when I asked that it was 'victory green,' the team's official term for the color, whatever the hell 'victory green' is. One thing was for certain: whatever type of green it was it stood out starkly in a sea of red. Nine of the Calgary residents present were wearing Flames home jerseys.

After the novelty of the jersey became moot, the crew watched the pre-game show and talked loudly about a whole range of topics. Sandrine and I were a little lost. Even Sandrine didn't know much about the Flames' roster, most of the oil field talk was related directly to what the guys in the room were doing on their platform, and I didn't have an opinion as to whether or not Stephen Harper was a jack-off. I don't think Sandrine had one either. I estimated there were twenty or thirty minutes until the kickoff, or whatever it is they have in hockey.

I didn't see Danielle anywhere, but didn't want to ask Keith about her. Maybe she'd decided to be out. 

About ten minutes later I heard the garage door opener start and shortly after there were sounds of someone coming in through the door from the garage. It was certainly Danielle, and I could hear her hanging up whatever her outwear was, likely coat, knitted hat, and mittens or gloves.

I supposed she'd busied herself with something in the kitchen, since I didn't see her and the only access to the rest of the house was through the living room or the adjacent dining room.

Sandrine had been gone to the bathroom, and when she came back she headed straight for the kitchen. I'd not thought about it, but if I had I might have tried to catch her on the way and inform her that Danielle was on the premises. On the other hand, though, I'm two years older than her, but I'm not her father, brother, husband, lover, or even a boyfriend, although, as I mentioned, I've had yearnings along the lines of that last status. Anyway, her personal life was her own to run.

Within thirty seconds of Sandrine walking through the kitchen door, raised voices sounded from that location. Keith and I exchanged a look. Then we were both on our feet and headed in same direction to intervene before any blood was shed. There's a lot of sharp stuff in most kitchens.

Danielle and Sandrine were nose to nose in front of the refrigerator. Keith's partner was a couple or three inches shorter than Sandrine. I estimated five-six or so. She had more apparent curves than Sandrine, more hour-glassy where Sandrine had less bust to waist to hips variation. Danielle's boobs were certainly much larger than Sandrine's. She had a head of long, blonde hair that in length and style reminded me of Jennifer Aniston's shape and cut, where Sandrine wore a much shorter bob hair style: bangs to her eyebrows and the rest a bowl of hair that ended at her neck, all of it curving in, leaving the front parts to make two raven parentheses: the sides to the three-sided frame around her face.

My first instinct was to try to begin defusing the encounter with humor.

"Ladies, ladies," I said, "let's not get in a snit already about who's going to win the hockey game." I wasn't surprised when it went nowhere.

"This isn't about the game, dumb ass," said Danielle. "This bitch was fuck-dancing with Keith last night. Shit! You saw more of it than I did."

Sandrine fired right back. "Hey, we were just dancing and having a little fun. Everybody flirts a little bit." 

From Sandrine's tone I could tell she perhaps had at the back of her mind our conversation in the car on the way here. She was remembering that a thing with Keith was not the smartest move and so was willing to chalk it all up to harmless and chaste trifling. And if Danielle hadn't been so insecure and had been able to let it go we might all have had a much less interesting afternoon and evening.

"Flirting my ass!" Danielle returned. "When you didn't have your face in his crotch you were bent over ready to take his dick up your ass. Just how desperate are you, anyway? You looked fucking pathetic! You don't really think you could get his dick to pay attention, do you? Give it a try after you grow some tits."

Keith and I exchanged a glance, and Keith shrugged. Clearly, we both knew any words on our part would be both useless and unwelcome. We tacitly were agreeing to let them shout at each other until they ran out of steam and to only step in if it came to blows.

A moment ago Sandrine had been ready to be conciliatory, to agree to disagree. I'm sure an apology would not have been forthcoming, but they could have both backed away without losing face. Now, though, Danielle had called into question Sandrine's bona fides as a sexual creature. She'd mocked Sandrine as undesirable and unalluring. Sandrine had looked merely annoyed. Now an expression of outrage and fury came across her face. I already knew she had a Mediterranean temper to go with the looks. If she were a cartoon character her eyes would have bugged out and daggers would have leapt from them.

"You just stepped over the line, douchebag cunt," Sandrine said with a calm in her voice that belied the look on her face, only emphasizing the last word. "You know what? He had a bulge in his jeans that would've taken out a wall if it got out." Now she was rolling, and her voice was taking on the anger that showed on her face. 

"You just get the fuck out of my house," Danielle ordered.

"I don't answer to you. You just live here. It's Keith's house and he's standing right there. If he kicks me out I go, but no chank like you is gonna make me move."

"Keith..." Danielle began.

"Oh, boo-hoo. Run to daddy, bitch. What did I hear? You two have been going out for six years? Six years? If he hasn't popped the question by now, honey, it ain't ever gonna happen. Which makes you nothing more than his shag hag. Maybe it's time for Keith to trade up."


Sandrine's Bet Ch. 01



That was plenty for Danielle. The girls had slowly drifted apart while they'd argued. Now Danielle took a flying leap at Sandrine and laid a hard slap across her face. Keith was on Danielle in an instant, as I was on Sandrine. We pulled them apart, but not before Sandrine planted a healthy smack of her own across Danielle's kisser. They'd each gotten in one good shot, and as we held them apart they were still kicking their legs at each other.

Finally, their useless gesticulations tired them enough that their legs came to rest. Sandrine was still tense under my arms, as I suppose Danielle was under Keith's, but it didn't seem she was ready to spring at her opponent.

"Okay. Enough." Keith said. He waited few seconds. "Now, can we let you girls go and you'll act like adults?"

They were both silent.

I decided to chip in my two cents. "Let's leave the fighting on the ice. The Flames and Stars can play and at the end one of you can gloat at the other. How's that?"

As we released our grips on them Keith added, "Can you two sit and watch a game without ripping each other's clothes off?"

Danielle began to turn toward the counter farther into the kitchen, and Sandrine had turned toward the living room. I think they both got the idea at once, because they both turned back at the same moment. I could see Keith tense to intervene again. Sandrine was out with it first.

"Hey, Danielle. These two numb nuts gave me an idea."

"Yeah, I'm already on it, bitch. Care for a little wager? You're for the Stars, I'm for the Flames. How about loser strips?"

"Way ahead of you. Loser strips and dances for everybody in her birthday suit. Winner says how long and gets to direct the choreography. And she can make it as humiliating as she wants."

"You are so on," Danielle said, shaking her head. "These two are witnesses. No backing out. Oh, one thing. I don't think either of us wants to be an internet sensation, so no pictures or videos?

"Yeah, I can live with that."

"So, bet?"

"Bet!" said Sandrine. She put up her hand, and Danielle reached out and slapped it. Then they resumed their previous courses: Danielle for the sink, and now she was strutting. Sandrine made for the living room, and I followed, her ass swaying widely as she no doubt contemplated her play time humiliating Danielle. I accompanied her and we plopped into the love seat behind the couch.

I looked at Sandrine and said, "Chank?"

She rolled her eyes to declare her impatience and my stupidity. "Chunky skank, dipshit."

"Sandrine, Danielle is not some skank, and you know it. And she has some curves but 'chunky' is way out there."

"Yeah, okay. But I'm looking forward to after this game and making her shake her bare ass in front of everybody. God, that's gonna be sweet. Maybe it'll even get you started. I mean, not like watching me would, but hey, she may be ugly and fat but at least she's got the basic equipment: two tits and a pussy."

"Oh, yeah, well, I've gotta tell you in all truth that your little scene together in there got me going. When you two started swingin' Mister Chubby started to burn rubber."

Sandrine laughed, and I'm glad my little jest had worked to redirect her. She pushed at me playfully. 

I made a point to admire her jersey. I spent a few minutes examining it front, back, and sleeves, looking at all the autographs on it.

"Stars win the Stanley Cup this year and that'll be a real collector's item. How'd you get it?"

"Well, the team had a silent auction. You know, a charity thing? They had one of these and I put a bid in on it, but got beaten out. So, I bought a jersey from the team store and put it in an envelope with another envelope with return postage, and a note that said I'm a season ticket holder, which I am, and explaining what I wanted. Oh, and a full length of me in nothing but a bikini bottom and a hand bra. I sent it to the clubhouse manager. I had no idea if I'd ever see it again, or if it would just come back the way I sent it. But, hey, back it came. Everyone on the active roster is accounted for."

That result didn't surprise me at all. It must have been the sincerity in the note.

While we'd talked, O Canada had played. The game was in Dallas. Now the notes of The Star Spangled Banner spilled from the flat screen. 

Apparently, the girls' loud verbiage had been heard in here and had spread to anyone who'd been in the head. By now, everyone knew about the bet. All the guys were looking from Sandrine to Danielle. You didn't have to be clairvoyant to know what was going on in their heads. 

Which one will I get to see naked? Shit, it's just one game. I could live with the Flames losing to check out those cans on Danielle, and the rest of it. Wonder how she shaves her pubes? Screw the Stars. Let's see Sandrine's goods. Smaller tits and fewer curves, but, man, she looks like a hardbody. I'll bet those tits point to the Moon, eh?

The referee dropped the puck. Since the game was in the States, I guess that happened at center ice rather than centre ice.



Sandrine's Bet Ch. 02



Author's Note

This is the re-imagining of story called Lucia Makes a Bet by visioneer. It was posted here in March, 2012, although I found it on another site when he re-posted it there in November, 2013.

Visioneer's story is very well-written; has an interesting premise; and has great characters, plot, and dialogue. So there was certainly no need to play with a story so well-composed. But the premise was, as it were, right up my alley, and I had some ideas to take the characters and story in a different direction. I contacted visioneer and he generously extended his permission for me to re-work the story. Visioneer's story was based on a character, Lucia, that was developed by another author here, Gimmie_Your_Load. A good deal of my re-imaging of the story involved significant changes to the main protagonist, Lucia. In fact, the Lucia character, for my purposes, needed to be so greatly changed that I re-named the character. But I contacted GYL anyway, and she also generously extended permission to work with a character at least very loosely based on hers.

I ended up posting the story at another site, although under my other pen name, B. E. Thalia, and I thought it should also be presented here.

I was attracted to Lucia Makes a Bet because I've written a series of similarly premised stories called Taking Chances. They are about people who for various reasons - sound or unsound, impulsive or considered - make a wager and how the result of that wager, win or lose, has consequences and impacts on their self-image, relationships, and other aspects of their real world lives. This re-imagining of Lucia Makes a Bet takes that story in the same direction as those of Taking Chances.

If you enjoy this story then you will also very much enjoy Lucia Makes a Bet, visioneer's original version of this tale. And GYL has developed some excellent stories based on her Lucia character. 

But, especially for authors, this might all be illustrative of how different authors can take essentially the same characters and plot and turn them into distinct stories with very different feels, character dynamics, and story lines.

The story is presented in six chapters.

Your comments and observations, both public and by message, are welcomed (which is the polite way of saying: Don't be a greedhead and merely suck in stories, but extend the small effort it takes to give back to the people who are providing you with free content). 

*

Chapter Two

I asked Sandrine if she'd school me in the finer points of hockey as the game progressed. I put it that way, but really I didn't even know the rougher points. So, between hurling partisan abuse and having it hurled at her, she obliged.

"Not too much to it," she'd started. "Two teams of six guys each. They get on the ice, skate, and try to beat the shit out of each other. If they happen to think of it they also try to put the puck in the other team's net."

We were definitely the outsiders here. Not only was Sandrine for the other team (and, I suppose, everyone thought I must be, too), but we were from south of the border.

Sandrine has a sharp wit, an impulsive mind (as evidenced by her dance with Keith), and a devilish knack for pushing peoples' buttons. I doubt anyone in the room had been called a 'canuck' so much in a long while.

As the game progressed the two teams played to a standoff. Even I could tell it was an amazing defensive game. Sandrine explained to me that players were taken off the ice when they committed infractions, leading to a 'power play.' The other team would have one more skater on the ice for the duration of the penalty. I remembered once seeing that movie Slapshot with Paul Newman, and when she mentioned penalties an image came to mind of the three Hanson brothers, enforcers with their black and taped horn-rimmed glasses, all in the penalty box together.

The Stars got the first such advantage, but failed to capitalize. Later in the first period the Flames got their chance but also came up empty.

During the second period Sandrine explained to me about how hockey is an 'off-side' game. Forward passes of the puck are permitted. Before the 1930s that hadn't been the case, and hockey had only allowed passes backward, like rugby.

As the teams skated up and down the ice during the last two periods, often coming close to scoring but never succeeding, she told me about being off-sides. How an attacking team had to advance the puck over the blue line before any of its players could enter the other team's zone. 

As the scoreless third period wound down the Stars got another power play, and Sandrine pointed out to me how the Flames, a player short, would use every opportunity to shoot the puck down to the other end of the rink to take time off the penalty and period. She explained how if a team did that and the puck crossed both the center line and the other team's goal line untouched it was called 'icing the puck.' One of the skaters on the attacking team had to skate the length of the ice and touch the puck before the clock was stopped. An official would bring the puck back up the ice for a faceoff in the defending team's zone. But precious seconds would have leaked off the clock.

Soon the Flames were back up to full strength. As the last seconds wound down, a Flames skater got a breakaway and raced down the right side of the ice toward the Stars' goal, the puck at the head of his stick. Another Flames player was ten feet behind him on the left side of the rink. The first player bore in on the goalie, the tender coming out from the net to reduce the shooter's angle on the goal. The player shot and the puck was smothered in the goalie's pads.

Seconds later, the period, and regulation time, ended with the score 0 to 0.

I was surprised by the reaction of the guys. I thought they'd be inconsolably disappointed. Didn't a tie mean that there was no loser, and therefore no strip show? I expressed this to Sandrine.

"There aren't any more ties in the NHL, numb nuts," she explained. "They play a five minute extra period. Sudden death. If a team scores it's over. That Flames forward really saved my bacon."

"How so?"

"Didn't you see him?"

"Yeah, it looked like he was way open and had a pretty good chance to score. A shame the goalie stopped his shot."

Sandrine gave me a smack on the back of my head. "Watch, numb nuts," she said and indicated the screen where a replay was up. "See the other guy on the left?"

"Yeah."

"See how far the goalie is out of the crease?"

"Crease?"

"Never mind, douchebag. Now see the other guy on the left?"

"Oh, yeah," I said, the dawn finally breaking. "If he'd just passed the puck over to that guy he would have had an easy shot."

"That's right. And I'd be gettin' ready to strip down and have Danielle tell me how to shake my bare ass. Close call. That guy's gonna get his nuts chewed off in the locker room."

"He wanted to be the hero?"

"Yeah, and they didn't win because of him. Just one of the many downsides of testosterone. Man, if I ever did something that stupid in a game I'd just go home and smoke a shotgun."

Everyone was using the break before the overtime period to get another beer, hit the head, or both. I went and got fresh beers for Sandrine and me. As I handed the sweating bottle to her I saw a devilish smile on her face and a naughty gleam in her eye.

"Oh, shit. What now?" I asked.

"I'm gonna take that last play as an omen. The Flames didn't win it there, they're not going to win it. I don't think an innocent little strip is good enough for the payoff of a bet on a game this classic. Watch this."

Sandrine took a long pull on her beer. Then she leaned on my shoulder to steady herself and rose to her feet.

"Hey, Danielle," she said in a loud voice. Immediately, all conversation came to a halt. The telecast was in a commercial so the sound was muted. There wasn't a sound to be heard. "We're into OT. Wanna up the bet?"

Danielle was curled up against Keith on the other love seat. I'd noticed she'd been nursing her beer, probably still on only her second. She straightened and looked at Sandrine. I saw a hesitant expression pass across her face, but then she seemed to decide she didn't want to look like a weenie.

"Okay. You just name it. I'll go for it," she said with as much confidence as she could muster. She had to know by now that Sandrine was capable of proposing just about anything.

I'd thought the silence was deep before, but now it was profound and eerie. Chips and bottles came to a stop halfway to someone's mouth.

"Okay. Loser strips and dances. Then she sucks off every dick in the house. She does it any way the winner wants her to do it. Winner gets to humiliate the loser any way she wants."

Even I'd not been ready for that one. There were a few murmured comments. "Shit." "Hell, yes."

Danielle's face took on a stricken look, her eyes wide and staring. She started to speak a couple of times before meekly saying, "That's, um, don't you think that's a little extreme, Sandrine?"

The hook was in Danielle's mouth. Now Sandrine set it. 

"Hey, all you fuckin' canucks. You gettin' a load of this chickenshit you've got on your side. She said she'd take whatever I came up with. Well, come on, girl. If I lose I'll blow Keith first. I know he's dying to get his cock in my mouth. If you pay attention you might even learn a trick or two to try out on the next guy you shack up with."

I thought Danielle might give it one more try to reel Sandrine in, but the gibe about Keith set her off, as it had in the kitchen.

She started to jump up, and Keith restrained her. "I'll take that bet, you fuckin' slut. Loser sucks every cock. You're not gonna wanna go to another Stars game in your life after I get through with you."

"Yeah, yeah," Sandrine said, laughing. "Flames are a bunch of limp dicks. So are their fans. If I lose I don't think I'm gonna see a single hard dick. But, you know what? I don't care what the bet is because I know I'm not going to lose. Go get your kneepads, cunt."

I stood at that and encouraged Sandrine in the direction away from Danielle and into the kitchen.

Out in the living room I heard one of the guys speak up. Apparently, what was on his mind was the possibility that his cock might end up in his boss's girlfriend's mouth while the boss looked on. 

"Hey, Keith," he said. "Look, if Danielle loses....."

Keith cut him off. "If that happens you paint this girl's tonsils with my blessing. Danielle's an adult and can make her own decisions. She's a dumb, loudmouthed, act-before-she-speaks, let-anyone-push-my-buttons-and-lead-me-around-by-my-nose adult. But still an adult. What happens, happens. You'll not get any grief from me."

I wondered how that speech went down with Danielle. As much as they'd been snuggly during the game I couldn't help but sense some distance between them. Keith washing his hands in that way couldn't be good for their relationship, and maybe after today Keith and Danielle would be history, especially if Danielle lost and he had to watch her get used like that. I suppose a strip show wasn't all that big a deal in the scheme of things. It seemed that just her act of accepting this latest risk might have really put Keith off. If he had to watch his lady get humiliated by Sandrine and her mouth get used as a cum dump by the guys he worked with, how would that impact their relationship? Would the episode end it?

In the kitchen, Sandrine hopped her ass up onto the counter surface. 

"Man, this is a hoot!" Sandrine said. "It's like having a couple of fingers up her nose. I can make her go anywhere I want. Did you see the look on the bitch's face when I mentioned the blow-jobs? She looked like she had a hockey stick up her ass!"

I'd seen some crazy wagers, but this one topped them all. I tried to bring Sandrine back down to terra firma.

"Sandrine, you know the Flames just might win."

"No, they won't. I'm planning to watch Danielle choke on cock. I told you: they missed that chance at the end. That's the omen. That's how I know the Stars will end up winning."

"Sandrine? An omen? Are you nuts? Did you check your horoscope to see who was going to win? 'Aries - Don't miss an opportunity! Jupiter is in the Seventh House so it's a safe day to take a risk!'" I snapped my fingers in front of her face. "Hello? You might lose, Sandrine. Suck all those cocks? And Danielle has carte blanch to humiliate you any way she wants? No hockey game is worth that, Sandrine."

"It's not the hockey game, Michael. It's the bitch who's got her mouth bet on the Flames. That's what's important."

We were at the end of the kitchen farthest from the refrigerator and the guys going back and forth to fetch fresh beers. Our conversation was soto voce. Most of the guys coming and going studiously avoided looking at Sandrine. Only one guy paused on his trip to the fridge. He stopped to ask Sandrine if she'd open her month and let him see, make sure it was big enough for his cock. Sandrine showed him a middle finger.

I got the sense that Sandrine was finally starting to reflect and think of this seriously and analytically. The adrenaline was becoming more dilute in her system, and Sandrine was starting to see that her actions had consequences she'd not thought of in the heat of the moment. 

This was strange. I'd known Sandrine at work for five years. I found I could connect with her most of the time. We had occasion to talk from time to time about personal matters - one or the other of us starting or ending a relationship, maybe - and about business. In all those instances, I thought I was really clicking with Sandrine. Especially in the last few months before we left for Calgary, I'd found Sandrine willing to talk about personal matters, and I found a lot of traction. I could tell we were talking honestly and reaching each other. Now, though, in this situation, it was like she was covered in a thick and shiny layer of lacquer. I wasn't getting that adhesion. I knew I wasn't really connecting with her. She was on her own wavelength, hopped up on some combination of dislike for Danielle and partisanship to her team. It was probably ninety percent the former and ten percent the latter. The faith in her team was just the means to an end: humiliating Danielle. Was that really worth it to Sandrine, taking a risk like that?

"You see what I'm saying, Sandrine? Naked? Your mouth getting gangbanged in front of an audience?"

I knew right away my words had slid right off. Whatever reflection she had been engaged with was gone and she was back to acting on pure bravado. 

"Not gonna happen, Michael. But your concern is sweet. And even if - hypothetically speaking, very hypothetically speaking - I lost what's the worst? I have to suck a few dicks? I've sucked dick before."

"A dozen of them? One after another? Naked in front of an audience?"

The impervious exterior was still in place.

"Michael, sweetie, you're a dear to look after me, but it's my mouth. Hey, what do you have to be worried about? You get a blow-job either way."

"Sandrine, you know that's not what I'm concerned....."

Keith entered the kitchen then and strode up to us.

"You a little shitfaced, Sandrine?" Keith asked.

"Not at all," Sandrine answered. She got a look on her face like she was probing deep inside herself. "A nice buzz, but definitely not shitfaced. Really, not even crocked. Your little pet is trying to weasel out, isn't she?"

"No, as a matter of fact she's not," Keith said. "She's right where you manipulated her to. Look, Sandrine, I don't know where you got the idea that you and me are going to have some kind of roll in the sack, or relationship, or whatever, but it's....."

"I never thought that for one minute, Keith. Don't flatter yourself."

Keith stabbed her with a cold stare that went on and on. He was trying to come up with something that might explain what this crazy bitch was about. Finally, he let it drop with a "Fuck it!" Then he turned to me. "Michael, let's keep these two apart until this is settled. Then we're all going to talk and see how this is going to play out." With that, Keith turned and headed back to the living room.

A few seconds later we followed him. The start of the overtime period had to be imminent by now.

The puck dropped, and the action started. It looked strange to see only four skaters per side rather than five. Sandrine and Danielle diligently ignored each other. This period was only five minutes long and the time sped by. The Stars got a power play opportunity in the middle of the period, but like earlier they couldn't put the puck in the net even with the advantage. The period limped to a close with the score still 0 to 0.

When I looked at Sandrine I sensed that maybe the lacquer was thinning a little. She was casting her gaze about the room, occasionally letting it light on Danielle and Keith. I didn't think it would do any good to push her. There was nothing that could be done about the reality of the bet now. It was her or Danielle, and the fact that Sandrine was maybe moving in her mind to the realization that it might very well be her, and beginning to feel the dread of what that meant, didn't change the fact of the wager.

I asked Sandrine what happened now. She seemed to need a moment to come out of wherever she'd gone in her mind.

"Um, now it's a shootout. Each team chooses three players. They each get a penalty shot. The puck starts on the red line and the guy skates forward toward the goal and tries to score. After all three have gone on both sides whichever team has the most scores wins the game."

I thanked her for the information and she retreated back into herself.

The Stars were the home team and elected to go first. Their first skater approached the puck and got it moving with his stick, skating in a way that looked almost leisurely toward the Flames' goal. The goaltender came out of what I now knew was the 'crease.' The skater continued to approach and at the last moment faked one way and went the other, and for the first time the puck hit the net.

Sandrine jumped up screaming in the otherwise silent room. "Oh, man! Did you see that? Deked him right out of his fucking jock strap! Beautiful! Just fucking beautiful!"

I thought she might start digging at Danielle, but she sat down without doing so. The Flames' first player was just picking up the puck on his way to the net. Rather than trying to get very close, he took a shot from just inside the blue line, hoping to catch the goaltender off guard as he came out of the crease, but the goalie smothered the shot. Sandrine hooted.

The second shooters for each team took their turns and both were unsuccessful.

The third Stars shooter began to skate up the ice with the possibility of ending the game with a second Stars point. He tried the same sort of decoy that the first shooter had, but his shot went well wide. 

Now the third and last Flames shooter started up the ice. I'd been sneaking peeks at Danielle since the Stars had scored. When each player started moving with the puck she lowered her head but kept her eyes open, the way a person does when they know news is coming and that it might be bad. Her hands were together, her fingers interlaced, and she had them up by her mouth. This time I saw her lips moving silently and her eyes definitely had some extra wetness. I realized she was soundlessly mouthing, "Please, please, please, please....."

The last Flames shooter slapped the puck after covering about half the distance to the goal. The shot was low and right at the goaltender, who lowered his glove to catch the puck. Sandrine screamed and jumped up again. But it was premature. The puck had made its way under the glove and between the skates of the goal tender and was now trickling toward the net at much reduced speed. 




Sandrine's Bet Ch. 02



Sound began building in the room. The goalie realized he didn't have the puck and turned just in time to watch it slide into the goal. The sounds became screams and kept up for a long while. Sandrine resumed her seat with a "Fuck!" Danielle was sitting on her love seat. Her face was in her hands and she was breathing deeply.

When the room began to settle, I asked Sandrine, "So, now what?"

"The shootout continues starting back with the original skaters, but this time sudden death. They keep up like they were, and first time the puck goes in the net it's over."

"So, the Stars get to go first?"

"That's why they elected to go first at the beginning of the shootout. If it goes to sudden death they have the advantage." For the first time I heard a quaver in Sandrine's voice. 

Yeah, I think the lacquer had all worn off now, and this was finally real to Sandrine. It wasn't just bravado and loud conversation and invective and theoretical opportunities to humiliate some woman she didn't happen to like for no particularly good reason. Sandrine was finally face to face with the idea that one of them would soon be naked and shortly after have a long train of cocks using her mouth. Danielle hadn't had that layer of protection, or at least had it much more briefly than Sandrine. Danielle had sooner, and more readily, been willing to face the truth of what losing meant. Who that loser would be was to be decided in mere seconds, and Sandrine was finally face to face with the reality that, meaningless omens notwithstanding, it was as likely to be her as Danielle.

Then I heard something I never would have expected.

Sandrine cleared her throat. "Um, hey, Danielle. I'm, uh, you know, maybe you were right before and this bet is pretty extreme." Her voice was both shaky and timorous. "It's still not settled. Still tied. Maybe, um, maybe we should just, you know, drop it? That okay with you?"

The room was silent, waiting on Danielle's response.

She started to giggle, and then to laugh outright. "If you were a guy I'd say your balls were starting to sweat, honey." Danielle's voice was the exact opposite of Sandrine's, strong and confident, and there was mockery on her face. Now that the room knew where she was going to take her response, the guys were more than ready to get behind Danielle. They weren't loud, but it seemed that every one of them had some disdainful comment about Sandrine's cold feet, and the ridicule, sarcasm, and jeering were non-stop.

It was the perfect reversal. Bold, fearless Sandrine, too ready to put it all on the line, was suddenly the timid one, cowed by the thought of the horrendous penalty that awaited her if she lost in the next few seconds. Danielle, who'd been manipulated into a wager she'd never have made were her rational mind working, was now the audacious one, ready to courageously seize an insane chance and see it through, win or lose.

Danielle gave Sandrine her unambiguous answer. "Sorry, pussy-kins, I'm good, but I understand how spineless Yankee Stars fans can be. If you're backing out I guess you're backing out, but you're doing it on your own."

Obviously, it was an answer Sandrine didn't want to hear and hadn't expected.

"Decide now, gutless pussy," Danielle said.

"Oh, fuck," Sandrine answered. The quaking tremor in her voice was now unmistakable. I was close enough to her that I could see what perhaps the others couldn't: the slight trembling of her lower lip and chin. "Fuck you, Danielle. Yeah, I'm still in. The bet's still on, and am I ever gonna love humiliating you." But the threat was timidly made; the poise and assurance had completely abandoned her voice.

"Okay. You heard her. We're still on. Now let's get this done and get you naked, quitter." 

Everyone settled. The teams had paused for only a brief time. A moment later the Stars' shooter, the one who'd scored before, advanced to the puck. I glanced to the side and saw that Sandrine had her hands exactly the same way as Danielle, except she was bouncing them lightly against her lips. As the shooter crossed the blue line she put her head down and shut her eyes.

The shooter tried the same thing he had the first time, but the goaltender was better able to defend the effort and the shot went wide.

Sandrine looked up and I heard a whispered, "Fuck." I wasn't surprised to see the same extra moisture in her eyes I'd seen in Danielle's. Yep, this was something tangible now. 

The Flames skater was soon pushing the puck down the ice. I don't know if was called a 'double deke' or what, but he tried the same move the Stars' skater had, but doubled back to the original side. The Stars' goaltender committed too far to the first decoy and the Flames' shooter actually danced around him and took the puck right up to the crease before slapping it home. Then his stick and arms were in the air.

I'd thought the screaming was loud before. I was wrong. Now it was deafening, the roomful of Flames fans finally able to cut loose. It was over. 

I looked at Sandrine. I now knew what stories meant when they said someone looked 'stunned.' Her features were frozen, eyes wide and staring, a couple fingers over her mouth. Her eyes rolled up in her head, she shut them, and a tear rolled down each cheek. Her lips formed the words, 'Oh, my God.'

Long before the celebrating was over Keith looked at Sandrine and me and indicated with his thumb the hallway. Soon, he, I, Sandrine, and Danielle were in one of the bedrooms. 

Danielle skipped into the room. Sandrine sat on the bed, her head down, her hands pressed together palm to palm between her drawn together knees. Danielle bent down in front of her laughing merrily. 

"Hey, loser bitch, ready to suck some cock?" She had her beer with her and proceeded to illustrate on the bottle the task that was in Sandrine's immediate future.

"Danielle, just....." Keith started, but he didn't want to use the words. "Now, first thing. This is my house. Nobody does anything in my house they don't do willingly."

"Hey, what the fuck!" Danielle protested. "We had a bet!"

This time the words wouldn't stay behind Keith's lips. "Danielle, just shut up and back off. Sandrine, if you want to walk out the door no one is going to say 'boo' to you. The stripping I don't care about as long as there's no touching. But you're not paying off the rest of it unless I'm convinced you're doing it willingly."

Sandrine looked troubled. I knew the lacquer was now gone and she was down to her bare soul. I knew she desperately did not want to do this.

"Okay, Keith, you're a sweetheart and I understand your concern." Her voice again had that quaver to it. "But we made a fair bet. Shit. I'm the one who suggested upping it. I won't do it happily, but if the words you need to hear are that I'm going to do it and I'm going to do it willingly and consensually then you just heard them. I'll pay up."

"Goddamn right you will," Danielle interjected.

Keith put a hand up to Danielle signing, 'Be silent!'

"Danielle? You really going to make her do this?" Keith asked.

"Hell, yeah! She's the one....."

"It's okay, Keith," Sandrine said. "She doesn't have to make me. I opened my big mouth, and I'm ready to pay off."

Danielle pounced on that one.

"Oh, you're just getting started opening your mouth, bitch," she said. Then she got the same mischievous look on her face that I'd seen on Sandrine's in the kitchen. "She's gonna strip. She's not getting out of that. I just might let her out of the blow-jobs. But she'll have to pay a price."

Sandrine's demeanor brightened at the idea that there might be some way out of the most humiliating part of the ordeal she faced. "What's it going to cost me?" Sandrine asked. "You mean money? I don't have much cash with me."

Danielle laughed. "In your dreams. You think I'd let you off that easy? No, the price isn't cash. Believe me, you don't have enough of that anywhere to get me to drop this for just some money. It'd probably just be some of that boring, green American money, anyway."

"So, what?" Sandrine asked.

Danielle laughed again. She was learning quickly how to milk this for all the misery she could heap on Sandrine.

"After you strip we'll talk about it," Danielle said. "But, hey, let's get you naked, girl!" Danielle continued with great good humor in her voice. "You dance the first song and you'll be in your birthday suit by the time it's done. Then we'll put on some music and I'll let you know how to dance and when you're done. Then, unless you want to pay up, you start sucking cocks until everyone who wants it has gotten off."

"Yeah, I get it," Sandrine said. "I'll suck them one at a time. My mouth only. No fucking. Good enough?"

Danielle folded her arms thoughtfully. "Well, sure. That was the bet. But aren't you forgetting. The bet was also that I get to humiliate you. Any way I want. You insisted as I recall."

I felt I had to jump in. Sandrine had made a colossal mistake and I hoped to try to get her to the other side as easily as it could be done at this point.

"Hey, come on, Danielle," I said. "You know how many guys are out there?"

Keith used the opportunity to try to use his weight to influence her. "Michael's right, Babe. Can't you ease up?"

"Twelve," Danielle answered my question, "including you and Keith. You can make your own decisions about cashing in."

"Thanks guys," Sandrine said. "But it was my idea. Loser gets humiliated. She's right. I'll do whatever I have to so this is paid in full." She sighed. "Okay, what are you going to do to me? What's the humiliation?"

Danielle laughed again. "Oh, I know exactly how. But later. After you're naked and done dancing. So, we'll see."

"Fuck!" Sandrine said. "Okay. If I'd won I'd have put you through a wringer. Agreed. You direct the show. I strip. I dance the way you tell me. I either buy my way out, or I suck every cock in the house. I'll not only do it, but I'll do it all exactly the way you say. But when it's done it's done, Danielle. No bullshit about me weaseling out."

Danielle got a beatific smile on her face and put her palms to the ceiling. "That's all there is too it."

"Okay, Sandrine," Keith said. "You're doing this willingly?" Sandrine nodded her assent. "So let's go get this settled." With that he turned, opened the door, and headed for the living room. Danielle followed.

I was going or staying with Sandrine, and she was staying, at least for the moment. She leaned into me and rested her head on my shoulder. After a short time she straightened again and we looked at each other. She'd been shedding some tears and now she swiped with the back of her hand below each eye, blinking. She sniffed.

"Jesus Christ on a pogo stick! Michael, what the fuck have I gotten myself into?"

"I was trying to get you to ask yourself that question three hours ago."

"Thanks. Really. I listened to the sounds you were making but didn't hear a thing."

"Yeah. Hey, listen, Sandrine. Danielle's scored her points. Do the dance and then bail. Fuck the blow-jobs. Fuck whatever idiotic nonsense Danielle's got in her head about how you're going to buy your way out. Just dance, put your clothes on, and walk."

She thought about that for a moment, but then shook her head.

"No, I can't. Really, Michael. It's some kind of alpha female thing. We've been sniffing each other's crotches and snarling. And now she's won. But if I honor it all at least.....I don't know.....I can walk out of here with my head up. We're back on equal footing."

"Well, that's inspiring. You gonna to sell the film rights to the Lifetime Channel?"

It was good to hear her laugh. It would be her last for a while.

She sat for a moment more, then exhaled and said, "Okay, let's get this over with," and rose.

I followed her into the living room. 



Sandrine's Bet Ch. 03



Please refer to either of the first two chapters for the Author's Note.

Chapter Three

Danielle still had on her radiant smile. "Well, here she is: the star of the show!"

The living room had been rearranged. The couch, two love seats, recliners and various chairs had been assembled into three sides of a rectangle. The fourth side was obviously where Sandrine would perform. 

Keith took the 'stage.' "Okay, you all know about Sandrine and Danielle's wager. I told Sandrine she could back out, because nobody is doing anything in my house they're not willing to do. Sandrine has consented to pay off willingly. Is that right, Sandrine?"

"Yeah. I made the bet. I'll pay it."

"Okay. She has one hell of a bet to pay and I admire her guts and character. Somebody with less integrity would have welched. She's got to do this the way Danielle says. But I'll tell you this. The bet was for head only. Nobody is going to touch her below the waist. Not once. If anyone does, or if you, Danielle, tell anybody they can then I'll shut the whole damn thing down and you'll all be out the door. Understood?" 

Everyone made some sort of noise or nodded his head to indicate they accepted the condition.

"Good. And the girls have decided that either way there would be no pictures. So get out your cells and hand them over. I see anybody take out a device during any of this and the show's over. Now give 'em up."

Keith went around the room collecting cells and stashed them in the kitchen.

"Thank you, Keith," Sandrine said.

Keith nodded to her. "Sure." 

As much as he was taking care of business, his tone and body language screamed that he didn't think much of Sandrine. Then he turned to Danielle. "Your show, Babe." And was I right in thinking that Keith was again warming to Danielle? Or had his coolness been all in my imagination?

Danielle was at the sound system controls. "Okay, Sandrine. You've got one song to get bare-assed." Then she pushed a button and ZZ Top's Gimme All Your Lovin' blasted from the speakers.

Sandrine walked to her position in front of everyone. She was barefoot. Without even beginning to sway she unfastened her jeans and took them down her legs and off. She tossed them to me. Next she pulled her jersey over her head, and it was soon in my hands.

A few of the guys began to get restless and to boo. This was going to end in the same place regardless, but they wanted to get there with some ass shaking.

Sandrine looked spectacular in her underwear. She began to sway and move some, silencing the complaints. She wore a red demi bra. The material was lacy and between translucent and opaque. The undergarment shaped her breasts beautifully, and the material allowed the darker coloring of her areolae and nipples to show through. Her French cut panties matched the bra. The material on the sides was opaque, but a wide patch at the center running from waistband to waistband through the crotch was, like the bra, semi-transparent. Like her nipples, the darker patch of her pubic hair could be discerned under the lacy material.

Her motions were not synchronized to the beat of the music. She was doing her own thing: swaying and rotating her hips, sometimes turning her back to her audience, and giving everyone a barely obstructed view of her ass crack. Her hands moved from running through her hair to gliding over her breasts to caressing her hips to climbing the insides of her thighs. She had to be completely mortified and didn't make eye contact with anyone. Instead, she kept her eyes focused, as they tell you to do in the public speaking classes, at a point halfway up the facing wall. A few times she made a move as if to reach behind her back and unhook her bra, but each time she backed off.

Everyone in the room knew the song, and knew when it was drawing to its end. At that point Sandrine finally reached behind, unhooked and encouraged the bra to fall forward and off her body. She tossed the garment to me. I thought she might try to cover, but didn't. Then she was rotating her hips and dipping her knees, pulling at the waistband of her panties. As the sounds of the song waned she did another dip and pulled the panties down and off, and they were quickly in my hands.

Again she didn't try to cover. What was the point? It wasn't as if everyone wasn't going to see every inch of her body. But she was nervous. She stood with her hands at her middle, the fingers of one working at the fingers of the other. A blush had further darkened her lovely coffee-with-a-dollop-of-cream skin, and it extended far down into her chest. 

The bra hadn't done a bit of shaping. Sandrine's breasts were firm and high. Her nipples didn't point to the Moon, but they were up, slightly out, sat atop dark, inch-wide, perfectly round areolae. They were hard after leaving the warmer confines of the bra and jersey. The bush we'd perceived through her panties was a straight, jet black landing strip about an inch and a half wide, the hairs trimmed to maybe half an inch. Apparently, playing right wing on a women's hockey team is good for the constitution. Sandrine's abdomen was board flat, her ass cheeks firm, her thighs solid. While her body was not overtly muscular, there was no question that solid muscle was close under her skin. Her breasts were not especially large. I'd estimate a good, full B-cup, but they seemed much larger sitting on that lithe, healthy, hard body.

Her audience loudly expressed their appreciation. Danielle had been silent through the entire performance.

Tush cut off the applause and Sandrine began to move again. On the first song the program had been Sandrine's strip. Now the agenda was at Danielle's discretion. She didn't waste any time telling Sandrine to get moving, and our dancer did her best to oblige. Her wiggling, swaying, and rotating became much more pronounced.

"Hey, slut," Danielle shouted over the music, "that's not the way you were dancing last night. Get down there and get that mouth at cock level."

Sandrine began to dip as she moved. I don't know what was going through her head, but she had to feel incredibly exposed. Reilly began to tell everyone the tale of Sandrine's shenanigans of the night before.

Danielle said, "Hey, I thought you wanted to suck Keith's cock. C'mon, let's see it."

Sandrine, dancing in a squat, brought her right hand up in a configuration that suggested she was holding a cock. She brought the hand to her mouth and started to pantomime giving a blow-job. If this were Charades and Sandrine's challenge was Movie Title: Deep Throat everyone would have had the answer immediately. They laughed, clapped, and whistled their appreciation. 

Then Danielle was at it again. "Hey, skank, I saw that ass out there wiggling last night. I think these boys would like to see what you were doing." Sandrine obliged. She came to her feet and bent at the waist. "No, you stupid cock hound cow, turn around."

Sandrine came straight, turned her back to the viewers and bent ninety degree at the waist, her hands on her knees. I guess she didn't want to have to be told, so she began swaying her ass back and forth. One thing about firm ass cheeks and thighs is that they don't hide anything when a woman is in this position. Everyone in front of her could clearly see that her labia were saved smooth. Even the rosebud of her back hole was displayed. 

Danielle directed Sandrine to shift her position in turn to each side so the men at those angles could get a look. Then came an order I'd not thought even Danielle would give.

"Okay, ho, time to get a couple fingers in there a spread it out."

Sandrine had a bit of hesitation complying with that one but after a moment or two of her hand wavering she reached between her legs and spread her labia apart. Then Danielle had her go through the entire left to right slow oscillation, giving everyone a close look inside the most intimate part of Sandrine's body.

Somewhere in there the song had concluded and Danielle had segued to something else. Nobody was hearing the music. Every eye was on a naked and intimately exposed Sandrine.

Danielle then made Sandrine go through the slow side to side turn while holding her ass cheeks open. Everyone had already seen everything there was to see, but I guess Danielle just wanted to put Sandrine through the humiliation of having to reach back and hold her ass cheeks open while men looked on.

"Okay, slut, straighten up," ordered Danielle. Sandrine came upright and kept swaying slightly to the music. "Now I think these boys would appreciate a lap dance. Start with Aaron over there." She indicated the first guy to Sandrine's right. Sandrine was then in front of him. "Yeah, that's right, bitch. Straight at him and get on that lap."

Aaron was on one of the kitchen chairs and Sandrine spread her legs to either side of his lap. She sank forward until she was on him.

"Go ahead, Aaron," Danielle encouraged. "Remember. Nothing below the waist, but those fun bags look they could use a good rub."

Aaron didn't need any more encouragement. He brought his hands up and covered Sandrine's breasts. Then he started to knead and roll them around, most of the time squeezing her nipples in the crux between his thumb and forefinger. He looked up at Sandrine with a wide smile on his face, but she had her head up and to one side. She just seemed to be enduring the intimate familiarities this stranger was taking with her body. Excepting Keith and myself, nine more strangers waited eagerly to become familiar with her breasts.

I found the guys fell into two categories. The younger men, who maybe had less experience handling breasts, were reasonably gentle. They seemed to enjoy more looking at Sandrine's breasts and manipulated them with more care, and they seemed to wonder at the unique, rubbery consistency of breast tissue. But they were decidedly in the minority. The older men were much rougher.

After a minute or so, Danielle had Sandrine shift to the next guy, Jason, also on a kitchen chair. Then Sandrine was on to the next, the first guy on a love seat, Nelson. The fellow seated with him scooted a bit to the side to give her room and she came up on the cushion with her legs bent, shins to each side of his lap. She lowered herself again, and he made the acquaintance of her breasts. He was likely in his forties. If he had a wife or girlfriend he didn't act as if he recalled her at the moment. 

He played roughly with her breasts, squeezing them enough that they turned red where his finger weren't. I was at the other side of the love seat, almost in front of Sandrine. I saw her eyes roll up and her upper teeth bite her lower lip.

"Fuck, that hurts!" she complained.

"So?" Nelson asked. "The Stars eat shit, so fuck you. This is a great pair of puppies, bitch."

Danielle seemed to like what Nelson was doing, seemed glad someone was finally manhandling Sandrine. She let Nelson go on longer than the first two. When she called time Sandrine began to rise from Nelson's lap. As she did so, Nelson gave each breast a slap from the outside and said, "Thanks, skank." Sandrine hunched her shoulders at the discomfort.

As she moved to the next man Keith asked, "You still okay with this, Sandrine?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's okay," Sandrine answered. Keith had asked, but I'm sure Sandrine noted that he'd not objected to Nelson's handling of her tits. 

She proceeded around the room, at Danielle's instruction. The roughnecks and roustabouts used their big, callused hands on her breasts. After Nelson's session, all of them, even the younger guys, took the idea that they had a license to do with Sandrine's breasts what they could never do with a wife's or girlfriend's, unless of course said wife or girlfriend was into light pain and humiliation.

Most weren't as rough as Nelson had been, and Sandrine's breasts had been slapped for the last time. From time to time, though, she had occasion to grunt at some especially uncomfortable attention. Every man let her know, in his own way, that he was handling a pair of tits he normally never would have the opportunity to lay a finger on, and that Sandrine had no choice in the matter.

The music had continued, but had no bearing on what was going on. Sandrine finally made it around to all the men.

"Michael?" Danielle asked.

"I'll pass."

"Keith? No wait. You've got my bazookas to play with. Why would you want to bother with a couple of mosquito bites like hers?"

"Actually," Keith answered, "yeah, I think I'll take a turn."

Danielle looked put out.

Keith got another kitchen chair, placed it where Sandrine had danced, and sat. Likely not wanting to be told by Danielle, Sandrine immediately approached, spread her legs around Keith's lap, and sat.

Keith started by examining Sandrine's breasts and tweaking her nipples. He put his mouth on one breast and then the other, sucking, licking, biting. He was the first to do this. I guess the other guys hadn't started using their mouths because it would be too much like doubling dipping in the guacamole bowl. Keith took his time, sucking and licking in an exaggerated way: running his tongue all over her breasts, and at one point sucking almost a whole breast into his mouth. He alternated from one to the other and often looked up at Sandrine. She was looking away, her mouth set and her eyes staring. Again, just enduring. A strange man's hands on her breasts was one thing, but that she had to allow a man she cared nothing for to put his mouth on her breasts was an indignity ten times worse. 

Then Keith began kneading, rubbing, and twisting them with his hands. As he did this he started talking to the room.

"Did Reilly tell you what she was up to at the bar last night?" Everyone recognized the question as rhetorical. "Wanted to dance with me and spent the next five minutes acting like she wanted my dick in her mouth or up her ass. Isn't that right, Sandrine?" 

She didn't answer and I saw Keith begin to apply pressure to her breasts. An increasing look of discomfort grew on Sandrine's face.

Finally, she grimaced and said, "Yeah, Keith, okay, you're right." 

Keith backed off and started bouncing her tits in his hands, running his thumbs over her nipples. Then he was talking to the room again.

"I tried to find out what was up today, you know, just to let her know I wasn't interested. She said," and here he made his voice into a bad falsetto, "'Why nothing at all, Keith, not a thing. Don't flatter yourself.'" He returned his voice to its normal register. "Didn't you, bitch? And I guess that makes you a little cockteaser, doesn't it?"

Again Sandrine was silent. This time Keith put her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and started to apply pressure. Danielle was no longer miffed. Now she knew what Keith had in mind, and she was enjoying herself. It didn't take as much this time. Sandrine's lips started to press together and then she was out with the admission Keith was looking to elicit.

"Yeah, yeah, stop! Okay, I was teasing your cock. I'm a little cockteaser."

Keith laughed and let go of her tits. Then he used a strong arm to sweep her off his lap, saying, "Get the fuck off me, you skanky whore."

Sandrine tried to catch her balance but ended up on the floor, falling on her hip. Based on my conversation with Sandrine during the ride over, I didn't think the coerced admission was true. Even if the dance was fueled to some degree by tequila, in the moment she was pursuing some sort of attraction to Keith. But what she'd said was the admission Keith's wounded male ego wanted to make her humiliate herself by saying. 

Keith got up and went to Danielle. He took her in his arms and enfolded her in a big hug. They kissed deeply. When they broke their PDA, Danielle was all business.

"Michael, we need to make a few preparations. How about you take our little cock teasing cum dump into the bedroom for a while?"

"Sure, Danielle." 

I stepped around the love seat and chairs to Sandrine and helped her to her feet. We walked back to the bedroom we'd been in earlier followed by more than a few shouted references to where the guys expected their cocks to be in the next little while.

I closed the door and tossed Sandrine's clothing on the bed. She immediately stepped into her panties and drew them up. Then she pulled the jersey over her head. We both took a seat at the edge of the bed.

As before, she leaned into me and put her head on my shoulder. Her right hand came up and she laid it flat on my shirt. Her left hand snaked around my waist. I put my right arm around her shoulders and tilted my head to rest it on top of hers.

"I really stepped in it, didn't I?"

I searched for a moment, trying to find some positive way to spin the situation. It was useless. "Yeah, you really did." 

She sighed. "Thank you, Michael, you know, for not....."

"Are you crazy? It never entered my mind that I might participate.....in any of it."

She squeezed me. "Michael, I'm really not a cock tease."

"I know that, Sandrine. You just had a little too much to drink last night. I guess Keith is pretty good looking as guys go, but even if he wasn't, you had your tequila glasses on and you might have done the same with anybody. Everybody makes mistakes."

She brought her head up and we were face to face. Some more tears had leaked from her eyes.

"But now, right at this moment, I need you to know I'm not a cock tease."

I thought we'd settled that already, and I gave her a confused look.

She put her hands flat on either side of my face and drew me to her. Her lips were on me then, her mouth open. Her tongue pried into my mouth and started exploring. To say I was surprised was the least it. But I wasn't asking any questions. I returned the affection, and we both leaned more into the kiss. We broke a few times and each time went back for more, our tongues playing at each other and our lips increasingly pliable, moist, and hot.

When we finally pulled apart I said, "I know I'm the only friendly face in the room, but hey....."

She cut me off, her voice stern. "Don't joke about it, Michael. I've been thinking about this for a while, even when we were back in Dallas. You're not taking any today, but let's plan on next weekend at my place. You know, that is if you'd have any interest....."

"I'll get my just reward?" It came out as too much of a jest, and I tried to do a course correction. "Yeah, I've thought about you in that way, too. I just figured I'd never have a shot. But if you're serious, then, yeah, I think I'd like to see what's there.....you know, how we'd work as a couple."

"Okay. Does what I have to do today.....well, does that make a difference? It must." 

"You made a mistake. You got on your horse and started galloping without looking to see if there was a cliff ahead until it was too late. No, nothing that happens here is going to change my feelings for you."

"Thank you, Michael. Silly, but it's all I can think of to say."

We were in each other's arms and exchanged short kisses and pecks as we continued to talk.

"Look, Sandrine, like I said, nothing that happens here is going to make a difference, and I'll be with you through all of it. But do yourself a favor. Take door number two."

"Yeah, I hear you. I guess it depends on what it is."

"No, Sandrine. Whatever it is can't be as bad as the alternative. The choice is yours, but you know as well as I do that she's going to dream up something diabolical, something she thinks you would never go for. Just don't get your back up. Whatever it is, just say yes, do it, and let's get the fuck out of here. Okay?"

"Maybe. I'll see."

There was a sharp rap of knuckles on the door and then Danielle's voice. 

"Show time!"

Sandrine and I embraced and kissed again, then we were on our feet and out the door. 



Sandrine's Bet Ch. 04



Author's Note

Please refer to either of the first two chapters for the Author's Note.

*

When we entered the living room every eye was on Sandrine. We took a position standing together in back of the nearer love seat. The living room was as it had been: the seating arranged in three sides, the coffee table in the middle of everything. The only difference was that from the edges of the seating to the wall in back of where Sandrine had danced the floor was covered with bed sheets. As messy as things might get if Sandrine did this the hard way, there didn't seem much danger of damaging messes. The entire house was laminate flooring, just area rugs, so no carpeting to stain or clean. Still, the sheets covering a large part of the floor were ominous. Maybe that's one of the things Danielle had in mind.

Danielle was now at the point where she was taking her duties as a master of ceremonies way too seriously, enjoying it way too much, and milking it for every little thing she could do to shame Sandrine.

"So, ready to suck some cock, bitch?" Danielle asked.

She didn't say anything about Sandrine having an opportunity to buy her way out of it. I was disappointed at that until I realized that Danielle was just playing with Sandrine. I'm sure she was still planning to offer some horrendous way to get out of giving a roomful of men oral sex. But she wanted Sandrine to have to bring the subject up: make her rival speak the words that might lead to a safe path out of the minefield. To Danielle I supposed it was the next best thing to making her beg.

"You said, um....." Sandrine began. Danielle knew exactly the subject Sandrine was trying to bring up.

"I'm sorry," Danielle said, "did you have a question?"

Sandrine's jaw flexed and she looked up. "You said there might be a way I could buy my way out of the oral sex."

Danielle made a show of pretending now to recall. "Oh, yeah, I did say something about that, now didn't I?"

"May I hear what it is?"

Danielle laughed. "Hear what what is?"

Sandrine sighed impatiently. "May I please hear what I would have to do to avoid having to satisfy my bet by performing oral sex on everyone?"

"Well, since you asked so nice, I guess I could run through it. I'm sure you'll find it an attractive alternative. The first thing you're going to do is walk up to me and stand right there." She indicated a piece of floor two feet in front of her. "You're going to look in my eyes, and keep looking in my eyes while you say, 'Danielle, you were right. The Flames are the greatest, and the Stars suck donkey dick.' 

"Next you're going to hand me that jersey. I'm going to fold it up nice and neat so that stupid logo is right on top, front and center." She was referring to the symbol on the front of the Stars jersey: some contrived amalgam of a star and a capital D in that weird green. "I'm going to put the jersey on that coffee table. You're going to climb up on the coffee table, squat, and piss on it. And I mean empty your bladder. Then you're going to bring the jersey to me. I'm going to take it out back, put it in the barbecue pit, dump a bottle of lighter fluid on it, and put a match to it. And when all that is done, as far as I'm concerned, your bet is paid in full and you can walk out of here free and clear. See how easy?"

The men had gotten a chance to let loose during this set of instruction. If they had to miss out on their blow-jobs this at least was some prime entertainment, even better than what they could find in the tittie bars. Their cheers and whistles reached a crescendo when Danielle went over the part about wetting the jersey. Watching the American bitch squat and piss on top of a coffee table seemed to be right up their alley.

I'd been right: completely over the top. The words were the least of it. Squat and pee while a roomful of men look on? Yeah, that would be tough. The jersey? Shit, she could get another. It made sense to me that this was by far the easier path. That's what I thought, but my opinion was immaterial. I hoped Sandrine would see it that way and go for it. I wanted to try to talk her into it, but I wouldn't do that here in front of everyone, and she wouldn't want me to. Please, just go for it, Sandrine.

Everyone waited on her decision. She stood there with her head down and her jaw flexing. It seemed like a long time, but was probably just a few seconds.

Then Sandrine moved around the love seat and meekly minced up to Danielle. I've seldom felt such relief. Thank God! She was going to do it and get the hell out of Dodge.

When Sandrine was in position she raised her face and looked in Danielle's eyes.

She cleared her throat and said, "Danielle, I was right. The Stars are the greatest, and the Flames suck donkey dick. So, fuck you, cunt."

I rolled my eyes. There was an immense ovation from the room. Sandrine had certainly made the decision they were hoping for.

Danielle got that radiant smile on her face again. "Well, it looks like somebody is just dying to suck lots of cock. My, you sure do like to use that c-word!"

"Only about you, cunt," Sandrine answered.

Danielle let loose a laugh. "You made the right decision as far as I'm concerned, slut. Think so, boys?" There was another deafening cheer from the room. "Okay, so get naked again."

Sandrine stripped her jersey off, tossed it to me, and was in just her panties. Her hands moved to the waistband but hesitated.

"Hey, Danielle....." Sandrine began. She used her hands to indicate her panties, ".....this is only going to involve my mouth."

"So you have a request to make?" Danielle knew exactly what Sandrine was asking, but again chose to make her choke out every humiliating word. "If you do, be sure ask nicely."

Sandrine sighed. "Danielle, this is only going to involve my mouth. May I please just leave my panties on?"

Danielle, along with the rest of the room, was off into another fit of laughter. When she began to settle down she said, "No, you can't. Get 'em off, cocksucker."

Sandrine did as she was told and tossed the panties to me.

"Look, Danielle," Sandrine said, "I really need to pay the rent on the beer."

"Oh! Sounds like another request!" Danielle answered. "Remember to ask politely."

Sandrine rolled her eyes and said, "Danielle, I have to pee pretty bad. May I please use the bathroom before we get started?"

The laughter was much shorter this time. "No, you may not. But hold that thought, would you?"

Danielle walked into the kitchen, and we soon heard the sounds of her going through the door to the garage. She was in there for more than a full minute. Apparently, whatever she wanted she had to search for.

When she returned she had some sort of plastic container with her. It took a moment, but then I recognized it as one of those one quart paint containers, the type with a handle that you can carry in one hand like a coffee mug with a small brush in the other hand to do touchups or small areas like trim.

Danielle placed the container on the coffee table.

"You need to piss, you can squat and piss right there and in that. It's the last chance you'll get until you've sucked every cock, so unless you want to let go with a cock in your mouth I suggest you take advantage of my generosity."

Sandrine closed her eyes and said, "Fuck."

Danielle immediately grabbed the container back. "Now that wasn't at all polite! What a way to reward my munificence."

That got me to turn my head. I hadn't imagined Danielle would know a word that big. Maybe she'd read it in the Reader's Digest vocabulary builder when she was a kid and it just stuck.

Sandrine closed her eyes again and balled her fists at her sides. 

"Thank you, Danielle. Would you please allow me to relieve myself?"

The smile was back, and I'd noticed that Danielle and Keith were now using that same smile in synch since Sandrine had reappeared from the bedroom.

"No. Don't you remember? I said you may not use the bathroom."

Sandrine knew what Danielle wanted her to say. It was like pulling a needle through her cheek but she finally said, "Danielle, may I please climb up on the coffee table, squat over that cup, and pee?"

"Why, yes you may, since you stated the request so courteously." 

Danielle replaced the container on the coffee table. I had to hand it to her. She'd gotten Sandrine to go for the blow-jobs, but had still maneuvered her into a humiliating pee in front of everyone.

Sandrine's head was down as she mounted the coffee table. She lowered herself and came to rest over the container, all the way down on her shins with her feet and knees on the table. She began to reach under herself to find the container. The position was as modest as she could use and still do what she had to do.

"No, no, no," Danielle said. "No good. I said squat. Get off your knees. Maybe some of these boys aren't familiar yet with how girls pee, and I'm sure they'd like a good look. Oh, and make sure it all goes in the cup. Anything on the table when you're done you're cleaning up with your tongue."

Sandrine came up higher, her knees now above the table and spread wide. Again she reached under herself and located the cup. Then she reached in with her other hand to spread herself. In spite of that, she started off a little wild and I saw a stream of pee run down the outside of the container, making a small puddle about two inches in diameter that beaded on the polished surface.

After that her stream was strong, and the guys laughed uproariously as we heard her pee hitting the plastic. Then the container began to fill and the sound changed to liquid into liquid. Sandrine's face was red, and bent toward the table top, her lips pressed tightly together. The stream seemed to go on and on, and the sound began to change to the higher pitched tone of liquid getting toward the top of a vessel. Finally, her stream ended with a couple of short shots. The men applauded with gusto. 

Sandrine came up and stepped off the table. She had the container in her hand, brought it to Danielle and handed it to her.

"Danielle, may I please have some paper to clean myself."

Danielle laughed again briefly. "Haven't you gotten the idea yet that the answer is no? Listen, whore, you're gonna be a walking pile of cum in just a little while. What's the point? Oh, and....." Danielle gestured toward the table.

Sandrine hadn't known that everything had not gone in the cup. She turned to look, and her shoulders sagged.

"Goddamn it, Danielle! Come on! Please don't! You goddamn cunt!"

For the first time the laughs and good nature left Danielle. Her face took on a hard expression and she said, "I'm getting a little tired of hearing that c-word. I said if you spilled you clean it up with your tongue. You remember our little wager: I get to humiliate you any way I like, and right now that's the way I like. Now go do it!"

Sandrine hesitated, but then turned and took the few steps to the coffee table. She dropped to her knees and brought her head close to the tabletop. She hesitated again, but in a moment her face was to the table, her tongue came out, and she lapped up the urine. She had a sour look on her face as she came again to her feet. 

"Euw, yuck! That must leave a bad taste in your mouth. But don't worry, you'll soon have a cum chaser," Danielle said.

Applause and hoots again were loud, as much in response to Danielle's little joke as Sandrine's performance. Danielle took the container into the kitchen and placed it on a counter.

When Danielle walked back into the room her smile was again on her face.

"Well, time for the main event, eh?" she said enthusiastically. I noticed that when she returned from the kitchen she had a coil of smooth, black rope in her hand. 

Sandrine had walked over to stand by me. Now Danielle crooked a finger to beckon her. I gave her a squeeze and she put a quick kiss on my lips. Sandrine walked over to Danielle. The two of them stood where Sandrine had danced.

"You haven't really fallen for that, have you Michael?" said Danielle. "You think you're going to have something with this slut? Don't you get it? She thinks she needs you right now, and as soon as she doesn't you'll be history. She's nothing but a fucking cock teaser. So don't let her tease yours. But if you want to fool yourself then I guess it's best that you got a kiss in now. After I get done with her she's going to be nothing but a walking cum mop." 

Danielle turned her attention to Sandrine and took hold of her face with a thumb on one side and her fingers on the other, squeezing her mouth into a pucker.

"Time to get this hot little mouth fucked, slut. So I guess you know where you belong, right?"

Sandrine looked away and closed her eyes. 

I tried to imagine how hard this must be for her. She was an executive with a major corporation in a day and age when in a setting like that even the hint of sexual disrespect was not tolerated. She was a valued member of a management team, esteemed for her deep knowledge of a traditionally male industry. Sandrine was accustomed to being treated with respect and even some deference. 

Now here she found herself: naked in a roomful of fully clothed people, all but one of them men. Sandrine had to be aware of the difference in authority and status between her naked self and the clothed woman standing before her. 

That was only the half of it, though. 

Maybe this is not such a nice thing to say or observe, but I've been to lunch or dinner with Sandrine many times, alone or with a group from work. Frankly, she can be more than a bit of a haughty dick with people like wait staff. She tends to be curt and demanding with them, and doesn't hesitate to criticize service she thinks is below par. Even when she has no complaints she's still a crappy tipper. On many occasions I've left an absurdly large tip to make up for Sandrine's cheesy one, just so the next time we got that wait person we wouldn't get our drinks spit in. 

I remember when I was introduced to Danielle. Like Keith, she was in her mid-thirties, five years or more older than Sandrine. She worked as some sort of secretary or executive assistant. All fine, and I believe in the dignity of any honest work, but were she in a position like that with our company she would be making coffee, or answering phones, or making sure Sandrine's information folder for a meeting was positioned just so on the polished table before her seat. 

Sandrine isn't overly obvious about the issue, but she has a sense for status and power: where it lies and where it doesn't. Were Danielle working in our section, Sandrine would treat her professionally. But there would be no question who was the boss and the level of performance the boss expected. More than a few of our female administrative assistants have spent half an hour in the ladies room crying after a run-in with Sandrine when the execution of their duties had been less than stellar..

On this afternoon, though, it was Danielle who gave the orders and Sandrine who had to obey and fulfill them. And woe to Sandrine if she didn't demonstrate complete obsequiousness and deference. 

I knew Sandrine was acutely aware that the fully-clothed woman she now stood nude before might be considered as at a lower level of professional status and attainment: a distinction of no importance to many, but of great significance to Sandrine. As Sandrine stood there, having that woman unsubtly suggest she belonged on her knees, I could see her jaw tighten and flex, her teeth grinding. Her mind would be filled with the knowledge that she was expected to kneel so this woman could begin to abase and humiliate her, and she had no choice but to comply. The next hours were going to be bad enough, but Danielle had the power to make them much worse if Sandrine didn't knuckle under.

There were a hundred waitresses, waiters, clerks, and working stiffs in the Dallas-Fort Worth metroplex that would happily pay any admission price to witness this degradation of the bitch in the business suit with the mouth and the attitude and the tight purse.

The men - sitting at their ease, pulling on their beers, and taking in Sandrine's nakedness - had to be aware of the power dynamics at play. Had any of them been treated less than well, been unmanned, by some female manger somewhere along the line? Who hadn't? Now they got to not only watch the shaming and humiliation of some managerial bitch but got to participate by sexually using her. I wondered what face any of them might be seeing on the nude form in front of them in place of Sandrine's, and whose mouth they'd imagine they were shoving their cock into when the time came.

All of this flashed through my mind in a moment: an instinctive knowledge. Sandrine's eyes opened and they fixed on the coil of rope in Danielle's hand. She knew what was coming and knew she was powerless to stop it.

"Well?" Danielle said.

Sandrine's eyes closed again. She dropped her head, her lips pressed together, her shoulders hunched. Then she slowly and subserviently sank to her knees.

"Oh, much better!" Danielle enthused. "Okay, let's get you trussed up and get this party started!" Danielle sounded almost manic in her delight.

For a moment I was relieved. It seemed Sandrine was going to accept the demeanor of the beaten and submissive loser; she would bite back her pride and let Danielle rule her long enough to get done in the easiest way possible and get out of here. Like before, when I'd thought Sandrine had taken the easier way to get out of the blow-jobs, my relief was short lived.

"You know, you don't have to tie me. I'm willing to do what I have to do. God, you're a cunt," Sandrine spat. Her incredulity and shame and loathing of being in this subservient position just couldn't stay behind her lips, and Sandrine had unwisely let the comment escape.

Shit! Couldn't she just cork it long enough to make this only bad rather than horrendously bad?

Danielle came to her knees and slapped Sandrine hard across the face. The report was loud in the silent room. Sandrine's head turned at the impact. She slowly brought her face forward again. Danielle slapped her hard a second time, now in the other direction. Sandrine's face went the other way and I heard a single sob. Danielle spoke to her harshly. 

"Don't let me hear that word again." Then her demeanor changed and she was smiling. Her moods seemed like they could change on a dime. "I'm not tying you because I think I have to. I'm tying you because I want to. I think it will make this so much more fun. Now don't disobey me or talk back to me again. Understand?"

Sandrine looked down, unwilling to meet Danielle's eyes. She said nothing.

"I asked you if you understood you're to obey me and not talk back. Answer."

Sandrine looked at Danielle's knees, her face forward.

We all heard the resounding smack as Danielle again slapped Sandrine's face, and Sandrine gasp in disbelief. 

"You're getting slapped until I get an answer. Just to make sure we both understand who's in charge here. And, honey, I'm happy to stay right here and slap you all night. Now, you got an answer for me?"

"Yes," Sandrine whispered.

"What? I didn't hear you. Louder. Look me in the eyes and make sure you address me in a way that I'll approve of."

Sandrine was again silent. Danielle pulled back her hand. Sandrine brought her head up quickly and cleared her throat. She made eye contact with Danielle, her chin trembling, and said in a compliantly loud voice, "Yes.....yes, ma'am."

Danielle got that smile on her face again.

When Danielle spoke again she was still addressing Sandrine, but was also speaking to the room at large. 

"Well, that's better. That took a hell of a lot of effort because you're so fucking stupid, but I hope you've finally figured out what your place is. I'm tying you because I feel like it. But I also want you good and tight and on your knees. I don't want you giving out blow-jobs. I want these boys to be able to use your mouth like a pus.....well, like a.....what's that word you like so much?..... cunt? I want them to be able to use your mouth like a cunt. Got it, cunt?"




Sandrine's Bet Ch. 04



Sandrine didn't answer. Again Danielle's hand began to move.

"Yes, ma'am," Sandrine said.

Danielle finally looked satisfied. She walked on her knees behind Sandrine, and asked for the Leatherman tool Keith wore on his belt. She measured out several feet of rope and snipped it off. 

"Ankles together," she commanded, and Sandrine moved her ankles side by side. Danielle looped the rope around a half dozen times until the ends were getting short. She pulled the rope tight and tied a couple of quick knots. The rope work here didn't really need to be that of a bondage master. She next snipped off another length of rope about two feet long and looped it again and again tightly around the rope between Sandrine's ankles, covering most of the distance between them, and tied it off. The effect was to create rope ankle cuffs, not terribly constricting but also inescapable.

Danielle measured out another five foot length, snipped it, pulled Sandrine's arms back, and began to wind it around her arms just above her elbows. With each successive loop she pulled the binding tighter. This pulled Sandrine's elbows tightly together, her shoulders back, and caused her chest to thrust outward. When she'd tied the rope off she looked around Sandrine's body. She laughed and circled Sandrine with her arms. She took Sandrine's breasts, one in each hand, and shook them.

"Well, what do you know? It finally looks like you have some tits!" 

There were a few chuckles at that, but since Danielle had begun tying Sandrine there had mostly been silence. I think the guys were just awestruck at their good fortune. How often, outside of paying for it or on an internet porn site, do you get to watch a nude woman on her knees and getting tied up? Especially a woman like this: some hoity-toity executive. Probably pulls down six figures. Well, the only thing she was going to pull down for a while was loads of cum. Quite a novelty. I'm ashamed to say that I was not entirely immune.

Danielle cut off another length of rope, shorter, about three feet long, took Sandrine's wrists and bound them together. Finally, she snipped a last piece of rope and ran it between Sandrine's wrists and between her ankles. She pulled it tight, drawing Sandrine's bound wrists to within inches of her bound ankles. The effect was to pull the upper portion of Sandrine's body farther back and lower, so the front of her body sloped back, lower to upper.

Danielle came to her feet again, and made motions with her hands like she was dusting them off - a job well done.

"Well, let's see who's first." 

Danielle went to one of the end tables. There were ten folded slips of paper there. It became apparent to me that, while Sandrine and I were in the bedroom, in addition to preparing the living room, Danielle had instructed each of the men to put his name on a piece of paper. Those folded slips were now going to be selected, one by one, to determine the order. 

Keith piped up at that point. "Sandrine? You're still willing? Last time I'm going to ask, but if you can't take any more just say so and you can welch after paying only part of the bet and you'll be on your way."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm willing," Sandrine said like she was getting tired of answering the same question. 

Keith made sure Sandrine was looking at him, got Danielle's radiant smile on his face on said, "Good. I'm really going to enjoy watching this."

Danielle now selected a slip, opened it, and read. "Travis, you're batting lead-off."

"Hey, that's me!" a man younger than most said with surprise. "Great!" He came to his feet and walked over to stand in front of Sandrine.

"Oh, wait, wait, just a minute," Danielle said. She came close to Sandrine and bent down. "Really, I think I'd like to go first if it's all the same." 

Danielle's mouth and jaw were working. After a few moments she yanked on Sandrine's hair in back and forced her face straight up. Then she put her mouth a few inches from Sandrine's face and puckered her lips. Slowly, a huge glob of spit emerged from Danielle's mouth and dropped across Sandrine's nose. Danielle gave her head a good shake and released her.

"Okay, you can help yourselves. You're welcome to come in her mouth. But I'm having a party next weekend with a keg of Creemore Springs Mad & Noisy. And I'm keeping a list of everyone who unloads on her face, and everyone who does is invited." She turned to Travis. "Okay, slugger, have fun."

Travis unzipped, but stopped self-consciously. "In front of everybody?" There was a smattering of laughter.

"Yeah, slugger," said Danielle. "What do you think? We're all going to go outside and build a snowman?"

Travis looked down at Sandrine. "What the hell." 

He took out his package. His dick was ready to go, hard with a curve to the right. He brought it to Sandrine's mouth and ran it along her closed lips. Then she opened and Travis began to feed his cock into her mouth. He groaned in pleasure and immediately began to rock his cock in and out of her mouth. Several times as he drew back he popped out. Tied as she was Sandrine could do little, and Travis had to corral his dick and bring it back to her. Travis' pants had slipped below his ass and we could see his ass checks clenching and unclenching. All at once he thrust forward and became still. Sandrine began to protest and tried to pull away, but of course she couldn't. Travis continued to make small motions and then pulled from her mouth.

Sandrine coughed, and a large load of cum erupted from her mouth and began sliding over her chin and onto her chest. She put her head down and closed her eyes as Travis pulled up his pants, re-stowed his package, and moved back to his seat to cheers and high fives.

A young man named Jason was next and, except for the hesitancy at the beginning, his performance was almost identical to Travis'. Like his predecessor, he lasted for a few minutes of pretty tame stroking. He put his hand on Sandrine's head, held her still, and pushed his cock farther in as he came. Then Sandrine made some choking sounds as he withdrew, and another load that seemed more copious than Travis' was running out of her mouth to end up on her chest.

Danielle came over to Sandrine with a wide smile. 

"See how much fun this is?" She squatted. A large mass from the two loads was slowly running down Sandrine's front, between her breasts and approaching her navel. Danielle tsk-tsked. "What a mess! Let me get some of this off you."

More cum continued to drip from Sandrine's chin. Danielle put a cupped hand at Sandrine's navel and scrapped upward. Soon she had a large handful of cum which she proceeded to plant on the top of Sandrine's head. She went back and was able to get another full palm and also placed it there. Then she began to rub the cum into Sandrine's hair.

Sandrine endured, and when Danielle was done, she admired her handicraft and then moved to get another slip of paper.

"Nelson!" she said.

He jumped up as if someone had just shouted, "Nelson, come on down!" on The Price is Right. He was slight and seemed to me a pompous squirt. He was the one, when Sandrine had been doing her lap dances, who had first manhandled and squeezed her breasts to the point that she protested.

Nelson stood in front of Sandrine and took his trousers and boxers all the way down. He pulled up his tee shirt as well. On his small frame his hard cock jutted out prominently. As with the lap dances, now Nelson was going to give Danielle what she was hoping for. He slapped Sandrine's face back and forth with his cock a few times. 

"You better write a complaint to the Stars, slut, because I'm going to fuck your face like it's never been fucked, you Yankee skank." Danielle beamed her approval.

Well, so much for polite Canadians!

He shoved his cock roughly into her mouth, then put his hands on either side of her head. He held her motionless as he began to slam in and out. Sandrine tried to pull her face away because every thrust took his cock far into her mouth. But she was held tight. The interaction quickly created the sort of sounds that come from a very wet pussy being fucked. Sandrine grunted each time Nelson's cock hit the back of her throat. Every few thrusts she would exhale forcefully and quickly suck in air. Saliva was thick all around her mouth. From where I was I could see Sandrine's bound hands. They alternated from tight fists to her fingers stretched and pleading. After just a few minutes of such vigorous stimulation Nelson tensed. 

"Hey, Danielle, sign me up for that party of yours," Nelson said. 

He pulled his cock from Sandrine's mouth, used a hand to pull her hair in back and bring her face to the ceiling and the other hand to put his cock a few inches from her face. Then a large load of cum squirted out of him and coated Sandrine's nose and cheek. A second spurt landed in her bangs. After that there were diminishing spurts that oozed out, but that amounted to a remarkable amount of semen. Nelson tried to distribute the cum as much as he could over her face. When he was done he wiped his cock on some of her hair that was still dry, and released her roughly, pushing her away from him.

"My pleasure, skank," Nelson said as he turned away. Danielle had a look of ecstasy on her face. Sandrine's eyes were wide and she was gasping in and out. Her face was thick with cum.

"Looks like she could use another kiss, Michael. Help yourself," said Danielle. I flipped her the bird which made her laugh.

"Can he.....God! Shit!......" Sandrine said. "Can he clean some of this off my face with a tissue. Please?"

I hoped Sandrine would have finally learned that such requests only amused Danielle, and that the answer was foreordained.

"No, he can't. But thanks for asking."

A guy named Aaron was next and then a Jeffery and a Daniel. They were all older, fortyish guys. Unlike Nelson, they didn't attempt to shame Sandrine with their words, nor did they make their interaction with her a physical ordeal. But they were old enough to know what they wanted from a woman's mouth, and they were not shy about taking their heart's desire. 

They also knew that Sandrine was not a wife or a girlfriend to them. She was a woman who one afternoon made a foolish bet while they were lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time. Because of that, she was now naked, on her knees, bound and immobile, and part of paying off her rash wager was that they got to put their cocks in her mouth and get off. They didn't have to be considerate as they would with a relationship partner, or anyone else for that matter. If they hired a prostitute there would still be rules and a limit to what she was willing to supply. Not here. Sandrine's was a mouth that right now existed only for their use, in any way they saw fit.

Each walked up to Sandrine in his turn, opened his pants, and fitted his cock into her mouth. In each case his cock was not entirely hard but quickly came to rigidity. After that the similarities ended.

Aaron for the most part moved in and out of her mouth in a steady way, slowly moving in until he was all in her mouth and then pulled back until just his head remained inside. And that's how he fucked her mouth: slow in, slow out, steady and regular. He kept this up for some minutes and then began to move more rapidly. That was the signal that he was close. Seconds later he groaned with his cock halfway into her mouth and released. As with the first two, Sandrine tried to find a place she could go to avoid his load of cum spilling into her mouth, but she could not move. Her jaw dropped as she tried to find a place for the cum to sit until he was done. She breathed through her nose. Aaron took his pound of flesh by keeping his cock in her mouth for long seconds after he'd finished coming. I guess he'd seen the first two men spill in her mouth and a river of cum emerging a moment later. Aaron seemed to want her to swallow. He pinched her nose shut, and she fought for breath. Finally, her throat worked as she swallowed. Satisfied, Aaron let go her nose and pulled from her mouth. Still, she puckered and spit a much smaller stream of cum through her lips. It ran down her chin and began to drip into her sloping chest.

Jeffery was not a cruel as Nelson had been, but he liked his cock deep in a woman's mouth. After he'd entered Sandrine he pushed deeply in and slowly worked his cock back and forth. Sandrine was able to pick up his rhythm and time her breathing to it, so she was never in distress. In about the same time it took Aaron, Jeffery reached his climax. He'd decided he wanted onto the party roster. He pulled out of Sandrine, used the same technique as had Danielle and Nelson to force her face up, and he guided his heavy ejaculations onto her face.

Daniel seemed to be a guy who liked a great deal of stimulation to his head. He held his cock with one hand and Sandrine's head with the other and moved just the head through her lips. Occasionally, he'd go about halfway in, but mostly used her lips to pleasure himself. At one point, after several minutes of patient stroking, he pulled her hair hard and growled, "C'mon, slut, keep those lips tight." Apparently, Sandrine made the correction he wanted and a few minutes later he pulled from her mouth, elevated her face, and added a copious ejaculation to her features.

I couldn't know then if Sandrine was aware of how far she was into her payoff. Did she know she'd now serviced six of the ten cocks? Had she lost count? Did she think she'd only finished with two or three? Or that she had just one or two to go? When I talked about this with her a few days later she told me she'd been acutely aware of exactly what number she was on: how much of her sentence she had paid, and how much there was yet until she was mercifully done.

The room had settled down. There was no cheering or laughing as there had been at the start, only the occasional comment. The quiet was businesslike. These guys were just going about the dual business of taking their pleasure, and of humiliating some bitch who had been stupid enough to wager herself into being naked, tied, kneeling, and getting her mouth fucked.

After Daniel, Danielle came over to Sandrine and stooped down. Aaron's reduced load was on her chest, and a good deal of the cum from Nelson, Jeffery, and David's facials had dripped off her chin. Danielle again scraped her hand up Sandrine's front until she'd accumulated a healthy handful of cum. This time she applied it to areas on the sides and back of Sandrine's hairdo that were still relatively dry. Like before, there was plenty left to gather a second handful and then a third. After she'd applied it all she spent some time running her fingers through Sandrine's hair, working the cum all over her head. By the time Danielle was finished, Sandrine's hair looked like she might have just stepped from the shower or had a jar of hair gel worked into it. Sandrine finally became annoyed by Danielle's attention. She twisted her head as well as she could to avoid Danielle's hands and started running her mouth again.

"Okay! Enough already, Danielle! Fuck! You cunt! Stop!"

Daniella got a now-you've-stepped-over-the-line look on her face.

"What, you don't like the perm you're getting here at Chez Danielle, eh? It's no charge whatsoever. It's even okay if you stiff me on the tip." She was enjoying mocking Sandrine, but then her mood changed again on a dime and she let her anger out. "And I thought I told you I don't like that c-word." She impatiently drummed her fingers on the top of Sandrine's cum-drenched head. "Okay, I can see I've really been too nice about this. I was just going to let you kneel there and finish up the last four. But I can see you really need a lesson."



Sandrine's Bet Ch. 05



Author's Note - Please see either of the first two chapters for the complete author's note.

*

Danielle enlisted a couple guys to move the dining room table. The dining and living rooms adjoined in the shape of an L. She had them place the table on a diagonal in the middle of the floor some feet off the inside corner, half in the dining room, half in the living room. Then she was off down the hall and soon returned with a large armful of bath towels. These she spread in a couple of layers over the surface of the table.

Then she was behind Sandrine with the Leatherman. The tool made quick work of snipping her bonds.

"Okay, you cum-dump skank, get on the table."

Sandrine rose slowly - she had to be pretty stiff - and shuffled to the table. She climbed on and laid herself with the top of her head facing the living room.

"Uh-uh, skank," Danielle said, "other way."

Sandrine reversed herself so that her legs were facing the living room.

"Now lay down so your head and some of your shoulders are off the table. Sandrine looked uncertain, like she couldn't figure out what Danielle was up to. Danielle saw the look.

"For the last four we're going to see how you like getting your mouth fucked upside down. Sound like fun? Maybe that will get you to control that yap of yours. When it doesn't have a cock in it, that is."

Sandrine shifted farther up the table, and Danielle brought the coil of rope and the tool. She measured out a long length of cord and snipped it off. She started with Sandrine's right wrist. At about the middle of the long piece she wound the rope around Sandrine's wrist six or eight times. There were two long pieces trailing from her wrist. These Danielle ran down to the end of the table near Sandrine's feet and tied them off to the table leg. She repeated the procedure with Sandrine's left wrist.

Again, Danielle measured off a long length and snipped it. Like with the wrists, she wound this a number of times around Sandrine's left leg just above the knee, with two long pieces left trailing from the limb. She repeated this with the right leg. Then she tossed the trailing ropes to the end of the table at Sandrine's head. She came to that end of the table.

"Hey, I don't think you guys have gotten properly introduced to slut skank's pussy. So here it is." 

She pulled on the ropes, one with each hand. Sandrine's knees were pulled up and back. There were the expected whistles, comments, and hoots. Danielle released the ropes and Sandrine's legs came back down. Then Danielle set to work pulling them back up, one at a time, and tying them off to the table legs near Sandrine's head. When she was done Sandrine had her legs up and wide open, looking like she was ready to be fucked. Nothing was left to the imagination. Her head hung off the end of the table. Sandrine tested her bonds, but she could not move at all.

Sandrine's wide open pussy was pointed directly at her audience. They sat at their ease in the living room, pulling on a beer from time to time, taking in her naked sex at their leisure. Danielle squatted at Sandrine's head. 

"Okay, bitch, let's see who's next."

It turned out to be Reilly. He rose and walked toward Sandrine.

"You sure Larissa is going to be okay with that?" I asked.

Reilly shrugged. "She'd be pissed if I had my dick in the bitch's mouth." To me it was telling that the Sandrine Reilly had been socializing with last night was now, less than twenty-four hours later 'the bitch.' While he said this he'd come to Sandrine's head at the far end of the table. He opened his pants and took out his dick. He began to stroke himself and said, "Larissa is a huge Flames fan, so I actually think she'd also be pissed if I didn't at least make a contribution, eh?"

Reilly began to pull his dick in earnest. After a minute or two of this he closed his eyes, his breathing became deeper, he began to moan and sound little grunts. Then he made a final sound of satisfaction. He opened his eyes and looked down, pointing his cock, and making sure his load landed on Sandrine's face. 

Then he was stowing his equipment and walking back to the seating area. He'd not spoken to Sandrine, or even acknowledged her presence, except to the extent that he had looked at 'the bitch' to make sure his cum landed on her face.

As Reilly returned to his seat we could hear Sandrine. She was blowing through her nose.

"Fuck! God fuck it!" she said. Apparently, with her head upside down some of Reilly's cum had gone up her nostrils. I couldn't imagine it was a very good sensation, and she was doing the only thing she could to clear it.

A guy in his thirties, Bob, was chosen next. He got some playful kidding about what the missus might have to say about this. I'm sure that of the six men who had taken their turns while Sandrine was kneeling some had to be married or in some kind of relationship. That hadn't seemed to matter to them if they were. After Reilly, though, married Bob perhaps was feeling guilty, or thought word would get back to the warden. He ended up emulating Reilly and just masturbated himself until he was ready to release on Sandrine's face. He asked her, since she'd complained before, if she'd like to open her mouth wide and he'd try to squirt it all in there. He may have really thought he was doing her a favor. The offer just got him a, "Fuck you, numb nuts." With that he pointed his dick downward and added several strong, full spurts to Sandrine's face.

Chuck was next on the roster. He was a young guy like Travis, and didn't seem to have any agenda besides getting off. He made no derogatory comments and didn't treat Sandrine in any way that was cruel. He simply took his pants down and put his dick in Sandrine's mouth. He patiently stroked in and out. Chuck began with his hands reaching down and cradling Sandrine's head. As he continued his strokes became slightly faster and much deeper. He let go of Sandrine's head, brought his hands up, and began playing with her breasts. His breathing deepened and sounds of satisfaction emerged from his mouth. Chuck began to alternate between pinching Sandrine's nipples and squeezing her breasts. He did these things with greater force as he approached his peak. Sandrine began to shake her body, pull at her restraints, and make sounds of complaint at the increasing discomfort. Chuck let go her breasts, now covered with red marks, and released in her mouth. She made sounds of protest, and he stood with his hands now on his hips while he emptied. Then he was stepping away from her. 

It sounded as if she'd been unable or unwilling to swallow and in a moment we heard her trying again to blow cum out of her nose. "Shit! God almighty! I got some in my eye! Goddamn does that sting! Fuck!"

That got Danielle smiling again. She went over a put a kiss on Chuck's cheek and said, "Well done, Chuckie!" although he didn't seem especially pleased by the affirmation.

Danielle stood in the center of the group and said, "Just one left. Contestant number ten. To Victor go the spoils!" 

Victor came to his feet from one of the recliners that looked like some sort of grade school chair under him. He was the sort of huge man it is not uncommon to find working on oil rigs, somewhere in the neighborhood of six and a half feet. Victor and Nelson had been the two, during the game, with whom Sandrine had traded the loudest and sharpest barbs. To Victor, Sandrine had once even let slip a "fuckin' canuck."

Now he towered over Sandrine, smiling down at her helpless form.

"Well, here we are," he said. "Just you and the fuckin' canuck. Hey, I was wondering: which team is better, the Flames or the Stars?"

"Go fuck yourself," Sandrine answered. "I've been through nine. One more isn't going to make any difference. Stars rule. Flames eat shit."

Victor didn't answer. He opened his shirt and took his pants and underwear down and displayed his dick.

There was a mumble of conversation back in the living room, and someone said, "Holy shit, Victor, you got a permit for that thing?"

I don't think he was proportionately too much larger than any other guy. But he was a big man and so was his proportional dick. It hung there, half hard, like a knife or sword dangling over Sandrine's mouth. Sword of Damocles passed through my mind.

"Think you'd like to change your opinion before I get started?" Victor asked. "I can blow my load the easy way or the hard way."

"Fu.....fuck you. S-Stars." Sandrine said, although now she didn't sound as certain.

"Your choice, slut," Victor said.

He had to bring himself down some, and he lifted Sandrine's head up. He used a hand to guide his cock into Sandrine's mouth. His cock stiffened immediately as he began moving between Sandrine's stretched lips. Victor stroked for a couple of minutes, Sandrine making watery grunts and pulling on her bonds. Then he withdrew. Sandrine was breathing hard.

"That's just a taste, whore," Victor said. "Hey, that reminds me. Funny story. I was up in Whitehorse once. Bought this hooker. She wanted a hundred and a half for a blow-job, and man was she ever worth it." Victor was idly slapping Sandrine's face with his salami while he told his tale. "Well, she gets one look at Big Victor and she tells me to keep my money! I offered her three hundred to go down on me and she still wouldn't do it. Finally, we settled on five hundred for me to fuck her, but she'll only do it if I'm on the bottom and agree to stay still while she climbs on and works it into her. It turned out okay. She went through about a tube of lube, but she finally was on. Then I started bouncing her on it. It was just like the old joke. Did I ever make that whore moan! Now, last chance, skank. Best team. Flames or Stars? Say Flames and I'll do a Reilly and just jack off on you. Say Stars and you're getting all of it the hard way."

Sandrine didn't answer, and Victor continued to slap her face with his erection, harder the longer she remained silent, the impacts making moist sounds.

"Well?"

"Fl......St-St-Stars, you goddamn sack of shit. Go to hell." She put up two middle fingers to him.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Victor rammed his cock again into her mouth. He began to skull fuck her. There's no other term for it. Sandrine held out for a short while, but with the size of his cock and how far he was ramming it in with each stroke she was soon making muffled sounds of protest. Then Victor shoved his meat in and held it there, just making small motions. Sandrine's complaints were silenced. Soon she was trying to shake her head, but the fleshy spike impaling her mouth held her almost motionless. She was gripping the ropes near her hands and pulling, knuckles white, muscles on her arms standing out in sharp relief. She began to kick her legs and thrash her body. Finally, a stream of pee emerged from her, arching to almost the end of the table. After ten seconds or so she was emptied enough that the arc died, and the last of her pee just trickled out and down into her ass crack. 

Victor pulled out. Sandrine began to moan, gasp air in and out, and cough.

"Not bad, bitch!" Victor said. "I came close. That's one hot mouth, eh? Got anything to say?"

Sandrine was silent. She was still breathing hard and maybe hadn't even heard him.

"Okay then, let's finish this up," Victor said.

Again he was deep in Sandrine's mouth. At first he stroked, and Sandrine took deep breaths in time with him. Then he shoved himself in, again making those little motions. Sandrine was soon pulling on the ropes. As Victor slowly took himself to his peak Sandrine's legs began to pull and then strain against their bonds. Victor began to moan, and Sandrine's body began to thrash, seeking escape from the immense phallus impaling her mouth. The sounds Sandrine was making began to take on a note of panic, but Victor reached his climax and he pulled back. Sandrine sucked in air as Victor began to release. Immediately, Sandrine coughed and spluttered explosively. Victor's hands, cock, and abdomen were coated with a spray of cum. The rest of his load Victor emptied onto Sandrine's face while she continued to gasp and toss and turn her head.

Victor put himself away and closed up. He gave one of her breasts a squeeze and said, "You're a hot date, Sandrine. Call me when you want some more of Big Victor. Ask nice and I'll put him up your ass next time."

Sandrine lay there breathing deeply, but she was largely inert. She'd cough from time to time and try to blow out her nose. Her arms were still, and her legs rested against the ropes that still held them wide.

Danielle and Keith had watched these last four exercises while snuggled together on their love seat, laughing from time to time. Now they were talking. Danielle gave him a kiss and walked over to Sandrine.

Because of the way Danielle had tied the ropes, just looping them around Sandrine's wrists and knees, when she snipped them with the tool Sandrine could easily unwind them. Then she was forcing herself up from the table. It took a couple tries before she had a good grip on the table edge with her hands. Then she was able to slowly push herself up, sit, and swing her legs over the side. She sat there for some seconds. She had to be exhausted. Her head hung, and cum dripped from her face onto her thighs. Finally, she let herself off the table and her feet were on the floor for the first time in about half an hour.

Danielle took her by the arm and led her toward the living room. Some of the cum from her last four customers had moved to her bangs and into her hair. Still, most of it was on her face. She looked as if someone had poured a bucket of buttermilk cream on her. The semen was translucent white and thick on all of her features. It dripped off her eyebrows, nose, and chin.

As the two reached the center of the seating area Danielle said, "Michael? Don't be shy."

"Fuck you, Danielle."

"Well, I guess that leaves just one to go then." 



Sandrine's Bet Ch. 06



Author's Note - You can find a complete Author's Note at the beginning of either chapter one or two. Since this is the last chapter, I did want to take a moment to again thank Visioneer for generously extending permission to re-imagine his story Lucia's Bet. 

*

Sandrine knelt again on Danielle's command. Danielle didn't do as elaborate a tie job this time. She just quickly bound Sandrine's ankles and wrists and ran a rope between them. As she did that she was talking to Sandrine.

"So still think the Stars are so great?" Sandrine just looked straight ahead and didn't answer. "Well, you might want to notice which one of us has all her clothes on, and which one of us is buck naked and covered with cum. That give you any clues?" 

Sandrine was again on her knees and bound, her body sloping back. In addition to the thick cum on her face, a wide, deep river of the substance trailed down her front and into her pubic hair. Her breasts were smeared with it.

Danielle took Keith by the hand and brought him in front of Sandrine, who looked impassively at the two. Danielle dropped to her knees. She opened and lowered Keith's pants and boxers and took his cock in her hand.

"Is this the cock you thought you were going to have a romp in the sack with? Thought it would be in your mouth? Or maybe it's the one you just wanted to tease? Let me show you what a real woman can do with a cock like this."

Danielle began to pump Keith's cock with her fist and to kiss and lick it. Then she put her mouth around it and started sucking. She worked on him for some minutes, heating up his package and her mouth, fondling his balls. She started to deep throat him, moaning deeply, making short motions with her head. Keith began to groan. His hands found Danielle's hair, and he began to run his fingers through.

After a few minutes Keith whispered, "Oh, yeah, here it comes, Babe."

Danielle brought herself back until just the head of Keith's cock was in her mouth. He groaned as he let go. Danielle dropped her jaw, making as much room in her mouth as possible. Her nostrils flared as she breathed through her nose. 

When Keith was done coming, Danielle came to her feet and bent over Sandrine. She again grabbed hair at the back of Sandrine's head, although by now all of it was sodden with cum. She forced Sandrine's face up. Like she'd done earlier, before Travis, Danielle puckered her lips. This time, rather than saliva, Keith's cum began to leak from her mouth and fall onto Sandrine's face. Sandrine was too exhausted, or maybe to defeated, to even make an attempt to avoid this indignity. She just closed her eyes and let it happen. When the semen had finished dropping onto Sandrine's face, Danielle worked her mouth and then forcefully spat the cum she'd collected onto Sandrine's face. She repeated the procedure and spat again.

Danielle dismissively released Sandrine's hair. She moved behind and snipped her bonds for the last time. Then she pinched the back of Sandrine's neck and pulled one of her arms up behind her back. She lifted her - Sandrine had nothing left to resist with - and marched her to the door. She let go of Sandrine's neck long enough to get the front door open.

"I thought I told you to get the fuck out of my house, cunt," Danielle said and gave her a push. Sandrine lurched down the two steps to the walk and stumbled a few feet to where the sidewalk turned toward the driveway. But she continued straight. After a couple more tottering steps she fell to her knees and then fully on her front in several inches of snow. 

I'd been so shocked I'd not had the wits to think or move, but I could see Sandrine through the living room window after she was off the porch. After she fell I made for the spare bedroom. Our coats were still on top of all the others, and I quickly gathered them and Sandrine's purse. When I arrived in the living room Danielle was on her second trip to the door, a few steps ahead of me. Out the door, she threw Sandrine's clothes into the snow. Sandrine was just coming to her knees. Danielle had the paint container in her other hand.

As I descended the two steps Danielle said, "You forgot something, slut." She dumped the receptacle of piss on Sandrine's head, turned, went into the house, and slammed the door. Sounds of glee and merriment resounded loudly from inside.

Sandrine was beginning to shiver. I put on my coat and then helped her into hers as she came to her feet. The coat was all she had on, her feet bare, so I quickly gathered her clothes, picked her up, and carried her to my car a short way down the street. There I helped her into the front seat. I came around the car, got in, and started the engine.

She was now shivering uncontrollably, bent over double. The cum on her face had congealed and her hair looked frozen. I wanted to comfort her, but I also knew she probably wanted to get away from this place. I calculated that the engine would warm up no slower, and likely faster, if we were moving, so I put the car in gear and started driving. It was about a twenty-five minute trip to Sandrine's place.

Within a few minutes the heat was coming up, and about ten minutes after pulling out the car's interior was becoming toasty. Sandrine sat up and opened her coat to allow the warmth to blow onto her skin. She reclined the seat as far as it would go. For the rest of the drive to her place it was very difficult keeping the car on the road. How was I supposed to not look at that incredible body?

When we arrived at the house she was renting I found she'd fallen asleep. I had to shake her gently a few times before she woke. She came to with a jerk, a sharp intake of breath, and wide eyes. She was disoriented. Her gaze fell on me at the same time her hands discovered she was naked.

"Michael! Shit! Why the fuck am I nak.....?" Then she closed her eyes. "Oh, fuck.....holy shit.....that bet." By now her hands had found the river of hardened cum down the front of her body. She followed it up and her hands began to explore the solidified semen on her face. Her eyes went wide again as her hands felt the helmet of congealed cum her hair had become.

"Holy fucking shit," she muttered. "It really happened?"

I nodded.

She let out a loud breath. "Fuck. Okay, let's go inside." She found her heels on the floor and slipped them on, closed the coat, and opened her door. 

I gathered her clothes and purse and came around the car. She was already moving slowly up the walk. I put an arm around her with my hand under her armpit. It wasn't really necessary to support her. Although slow, she was doing fine on her own, and I just held her gently and let her know I was there.

I fished in the purse for her keys and opened the door. She headed right for her bedroom and I went with her. She turned and collapsed backward onto her bed and her coat was once more entirely open. Again, I had tremendous trouble keeping my eyes off her stunning body.

I tossed her clothes and purse on the bed and then went into the bathroom. There I turned on the shower to let the water run hot. The master bath had an enormous, tiled shower stall: about seven feet long and four wide with shower heads at both ends. When the water was steaming I moved back into the bedroom.

Sandrine was where I'd left her, and she seemed to be half in, half out of sleep. 

"Hey, gorgeous," I said and shook her fully awake. "C'mon. You need to take a shower before you get to sleep."

Her eyes opened and she nodded. She kicked off her heels and held her hands out to me. I took them and pulled her to her feet. Once standing she let the coat fall to the floor. I walked her into the bathroom.

"Hey, I'm going to take off. Call me later if you need to talk. And take tomorrow off. I can handle things." I wanted to give her a kiss on the cheek or her head before I left, but I had no idea where I could put one. 

She shook her head. "Come in with me."

"Sandrine, you're exhausted."

"Please? Please, Michael. Just.....please. It would mean a lot to me. I don't want to be alone yet."

How could I refuse? Any other time during the last five years if she'd asked me to join her in the shower I couldn't have gotten out of my clothes quickly enough and would have been certain I'd died and gone to heaven. Yes, her body was magnificent as she stood there nude. But she also looked so sad, pathetic, used. Tonight could not be more different than any of the other nights over the five years I'd known her. Now that I was sure that I was getting in the shower with her for her benefit, rather than mine, I was okay.

She stepped into the shower while I shed my clothes. Naked, I moved in with her.

Sandrine had her head under the pounding water, but she turned and hugged me briefly. My dick had been stirring. How it could not already be doing an imitation of a blue steel girder I had no idea. But the embrace accomplished that. My dick came rigid and moved right up in between her legs and pushed against her vulva.

"Oh, my!" Sandrine said in a sultry voice. She used her hands to indicate the mess she still was and said, "But hold that thought. Could you hand me the shampoo?" 

The bottle was on a shelf at the other end of the enclosure. I turned from her, my dick leaving the warm nest it had found. It popped right up and pointed out the vent in the ceiling. Sandrine laughed, and it was good-natured, really a delight to hear considering the circumstances. 

I brought the shampoo bottle over and indicated for her to turn. I squeezed a huge amount of the cleanser into my palm and began to bathe her hair. She leaned her head back and moaned.

"Mmmmm, that feels good. Thank you."

I nuzzled my nose against the side of her neck.

Sandrine picked up a rough, natural sponge, got it soft under the hot water, and squirted it full of soft soap. While I tended to her hair she began to scrub at the hardened cum on her body, rinsing out the sponge again and again. Meanwhile, I took the shower head from its holder and played the hot water all over her head, running my fingers over and through her hair. When I'd cleared all the shampoo lather I replaced the head, filled my hand with shampoo, and started washing her hair again. Truly, I could keep this up all night.

Sandrine seemed satisfied now with the front of her body. While I bathed her hair again, she soaped a washcloth and started to scrub her face. We went silently about our tasks, but as I finished with her hair, and she with her face, our hands started to wander. One of her hands reached behind her back and found my boner. I squeezed her shoulders, then I moved my hands to cup and play with her breasts while I again placed kisses on the side of her neck.

She turned in my arms and reached up to kiss me. I returned the warm osculation, and our bodies merged. My boner was straight up her front, ending above her navel. Sandrine moved herself to the right. She planted her back firmly against the wall there and pulled me into her again. She came higher and brought her legs up and wrapped them around my middle. There was no need to hold her up with my hands: the wall and the weight of my body kept her in place. I broke the kiss and used a hand to help my boner find her entrance.

Then she was sinking onto me, and her hips began to buck as she moved on my cock. I did my best to aid this effort by thrusting back at her. After just moments of this, Sandrine brought one of my hands to her mouth. She kissed the pads of my fingers, one at a time. Then she took the index and middle fingers, made them straight, and put her mouth around them. I felt her tongue swirl around those stiff fingers, and soon she was bobbing her head on them.

I've had sex with my share of women, but what happened then I'd never before experienced. Sandrine started to come, but I've never seen a woman have an orgasm like that. She closed her eyes, and they stayed mostly shut, but when they opened her pupils were rolled up in her head. She was grinding her sex against my abdomen, at the very root of my erection. She made loud and incoherent sounds of satisfaction, that I was certain she wasn't even aware of. Her sucking on my fingers became frenzied. I could feel her vagina spasm in a way I was familiar with: a woman in orgasm. Now she would begin to settle and come down from that high place, satisfied, just like most of the women I've been with. And, yes, she began to descend, but then she was back up at the apex, another orgasm ripping through her. She continued like this for some minutes: hitting a lofty peak, coming down a little as if she were in the saddle between two mountain peaks, then right back up again. I'm not a woman so I can't be entirely sure if what I saw was Sandrine having a series of orgasms, one after the last, or just one long, long orgasm, the kind that a man could never have.

After several minutes of this, Sandrine started to laugh. She picked up steam and soon was lost in hysterics. She moved like she wanted to come off, and I helped her in that endeavor. When we were apart she leaned against the shower wall, bent double, and then sank to the floor.

"Oh, my God, Michael! Holy God! Holy shit!" Sandrine had her head in her hands. "What was that? I couldn't stop coming!" She took some seconds to bring her breathing under control. "Holy shit, Michael! I've never felt anything like that!" She started to calm herself and held her hands out to me. "C'mon and help me up."

I took her hands and pulled her to her feet. She leaned into me, put an arm around my neck, and kissed me. Her other hand took hold of my hard-on.

"Let's get you taken care of."

"I could live with that."

Sandrine took my hand and led me back into the bedroom. She sprawled across the width of her bed and flipped onto her back. I knelt on the edge of the bed, delirious at my good fortune. She continued to wiggle away until her head was over the other side of the bed, hanging toward the floor. She brought her arms to her sides and pulled her knees up and back, a picture of how she'd been restrained on that dining table with the bath towels all over it.

She pulled her head up so she could see me. "God, Michael, I was so frustrated when I was on that table. I wanted your dick in me in the worst way, and not just because then everyone wouldn't have been able to look at my pussy all spread out like that. C'mon. I think I've got some more in me, and we've got to do something about that horn, horndog." She let her head hang down again.

I didn't have to be told twice. I walked on my knees until I was between her legs. Then I was into her. Both of us were still dripping from the shower. My boner was blue steel: turned on but not even close to coming. I was able to work myself up from the bottom of the hill, and it was a long, enjoyable climb. Sandrine brought herself with me. She climaxed again just before I did.

While I pleasured her and myself I thought about what was going on here. In the shower the combination of my cock stimulating her sex and my stiff fingers in her mouth had set her off like a banshee. Now she'd brought us in here so she could be in the same position as when she was restrained on the table. I didn't think I was far off the mark in concluding that as terrible and humiliating as her experience had been, at some level it also had to be a tremendous turn-on. I mean, I'd love to flatter myself that my cocksmanship had set her off like that, and I hope I was at least a small part of it. But, really, I knew that those horrendous hours of exposure and being used and humiliated had to have somehow been the trigger. The haughty, demanding, and demeaning terror of Dallas-Fort Worth service people had to have a balancing submissive streak. 

In the coming weeks we had a lot of opportunity to talk about all this. Sandrine told me that, yes, her shame and embarrassment at being so naked and exposed, at being so powerless and subservient, at being the object of any humiliation Danielle chose to inflict on her, at being little more than a living sex doll, were beyond anything she'd ever experienced or imagined. But now the remembrance of her experience could get her motor in gear. She said it was something she was going to be working on for a long time to figure out.

After we were done and apart we got into bed without even making a trip to the bathroom. We started kissing and caressing again, but within a couple minutes Sandrine was deep in slumber.

I put a kiss on her forehead, dried myself, put on my clothes, and drove home.