Making bets is never a good idea. But then, sometimes it's more fun to lose than to win.
How could I lose?
I think there’s some law of the universe that brings doom
along with those words.
But I didn’t know any better.
Trash talking is a normal part of any competition. And given
the stakes, it made sense to taunt her with all the things I would do to her,
with how I would use her body for my own enjoyment. I figured that maybe it
would make her want to lose, make her
hesitate as she thought about the things I would do. I knew Caroline likes
whips and chains and stuff. I knew she loved the smell and the feel of leather.
She even told me she liked the taste. So I figured maybe teasing her about how
I was going to tie her up would help me win.
And I didn’t pay attention to her trash talk. Who pays attention
to trash talk? Yeah, yeah; you’re going to do all those things to me. I tell
you I’m going to fuck you in the ass, you tell me you’re going to use a strap
on and fuck me in the ass. I tell you I’m going to tie you up, you tell me you’re
going to blindfold me. I say I’m going to whip you, you say you’ll put clamps
on my nipples. All in good fun, right?
Granted, Caroline knew a whole lot more than I did about the
subject. But what more do I need? I’m going to make you suck my cock. And she’s
going to make me suck hers, but not until after
she fucks me in the ass. I’m going to spank her ass red. She’s going to whip my
back raw. I’ll pinch her nipples. She’ll squeeze my balls until my eyes pop
out.
That one made me laugh.
I’ll make her kiss the ground I walk on. She’ll make me lick
her boots, treads and all. I’ll make her crawl like a dog. She’ll make me live like
one, sleeping in a cage and eating from a bowl without using my hands.
I’ll fuck her until she cums. She’ll fuck me until I come,
then make me lick it up.
All in good fun, right?
I’d be lying if I said that the trash talk wasn’t appealing.
I mean, Caroline has a dirty mind.
Where does she come up with all this stuff? She’s going to put a dog collar around
my neck, shackles around my wrists and ankles. She’ll put a bar between my
ankles to spread my legs and hook my wrists to my neck so I look like a begging
dog. She’ll trample me, and kick me. She’ll bite me. She’s going to kick me
until I scream out my safeword.
I knew it would never happen. After all, there was no way I
was going to lose, but the ideas were kind of hot. I thought about having her
wrapped up in leather or in vinyl, and that image was good. I mean, really good.
Huge boots like a stripper, all laces and latex, hugging the curves of her legs
like paint.
And, she told me, I’m going to lick those boots clean. Top
to bottom. Sole and all. She’s going to make me go out in public wearing nothing
but a coat. She’ll make me kneel naked in front of her window. I’ll spend the
weekend sleeping on the floor. My tongue will be used for many things, but never
for talking.
I think that was my favorite threat. There’s just so much
sexual energy in that little threat. I told her I’d keep her mouth full. She
laughed.
I thought we were just having a good time. I thought my plan
was working, that I was turning her on. I figured she must love a good, strong,
dominant man. She’s into whips and chains and stuff, so of course she wants a
man who takes control.
A man who’s in shape. A man who can protect her. I’ve taken
martial arts for years. Caroline knows that. If she wanted to win, why would she
have suggested a fight, especially one that was to submission? It’s got to be
because she wants to be beaten into submission. That’s how she gets her kicks.
And if that’s what it takes, I’m happy to oblige. I’d do just about anything to
get her in bed.
Not that I thought she’d be a slouch. I mean, I’m bigger
than her, but not by all that much. And she’s clearly in shape. If she wasn’t
so athletic, I’m not sure I’d be nearly as attracted to her. I figured she’d
give me a run for my money. But honestly, how could I lose? I’m a trained
fighter. She told me she’s never had any formal training.
So I figured that meant that she wanted me to win. That this
was all foreplay to her. In fact, she promised me that it was. It was our second
date when she brought it up. She asked me what I was ‘into’ sexually. And I
asked what she was into. She said she liked violence.
Not abuse, mind you. But violence. Passion. The tearing off
of clothes, the choking until your partner sees stars, the mind blowing orgasms
that keep life exciting. She loved the thrill of it.
And the more she described it, the more I wanted in. Even
before we settled on the actual bet, I was down for whatever. She used words
like bound and gagged, like domination, like power exchange, and I was hooked.
How could anything be better than getting to fuck Caroline? Apparently, being
able to be in complete control when I did.
That was the deal, too. Complete control. No questions, no
hesitations. Complete and total control, for the entire weekend. Whoever
submits in the fight submits for the weekend. No way to end it except to admit
defeat. To call out the safeword and back out. And, she told me, backing out of
the weekend meant backing out of the relationship.
That should have been a clue, now that I think of it.
I was so sure I was going to win. We met in the gym, on a
wrestling mat. I had made sure to wear form fitting clothing so she wouldn’t
have anything to grab on to. My feet were bare so that they could grip the mat.
She was wearing jeans. Seriously, jeans. Not only that, she
had on high heels. Well, high heeled boots, but still. Her tank top wasn’t even
tucked in, and while the gloves looked like they’d protect her hands if she
tried to punch me, they wouldn’t stop her from breaking a nail.
“Are you sure you want to fight back?” she asked, standing there
looking like a model, one fist on her hip. “You could just give up, you know.
Drop to your knees and beg me to dominate you.”
I laughed at that. “You can do the same,” I said. “Just
putting it out there."
She let out a sigh, shook out her hands, cracked her neck,
and settled into a sloppy fighting stance. I almost laughed at it. How could I
possibly lose?
Here’s how I lost:
I charged forward, figuring if I could get my arms around her
and bring her to the ground, I’d be able to win just through sheer size and strength.
Her stance was so sloppy, she wasn’t dressed for a fight. I guess I underestimated
her.
It’s not that she dodged. It’s almost as if she just leaned.
A tiny movement that left her completely free of my grip and left me tripping
over her leg and flying across the mat.
I scrambled to my feet, not wanting her to get me into some
kind of submission hold. But she hadn’t moved except to turn and face me. She
was smirking. Smirking.
I reached out and grabbed her. Then pain shot through my
body and I was on my knees in front of her. She was holding my chin and asking
if I was okay, making sure that I wasn’t going to throw up. “Some guys do,” She
told me. “The first time they get kicked in the balls, they vomit.” Then she
patted me on the cheek with her other hand. “Don’t worry though,” she said. “You’ll
get used to it.”
I pushed myself to my feet and actually took a swing at her.
I wasn’t going to hit her; I just wanted to make her move so that she would be
off balance and I could put her in an arm bar or something.
Then her hands were on my wrist. And, suddenly, her legs
were somehow around my neck. She twisted, we fell, and she started to squeeze
the life out of me.
All in all, it was an embarrassingly short fight.
She helped me to my feet, by which I mean she grabbed me by
the throat and started to pull me up, and she smiled at me. “See?” she asked. “Isn’t
the violence more fun?”
“I thought you wanted to lose,” I said.
She shook her head. “Haven’t you been listening?” she asked.
“I have all kinds of plans for you
this weekend. You were trash talking. I was promising.”
She let me go and tensed as if expecting me to attack her.
But I’m not that guy. What I am is a man of my word. I’m a man who agreed to
submit to her for the weekend if I lost, even though I didn’t think that was
possible.
I’m a man who is going to do whatever she tells him to do. I’m
a man who’s going to suffer for her whims.
And I’m a man who’s not entirely sure that’s a bad thing.
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