Emily & Ellen's Bet Ch. 02

This is a re-write of Emily & Ellen's Bet, originally posted in April of 2011. The effort is part of re-writing the entire continuous story arc of Ellen's Bet > Roberta's Bet > Dani's Bet > Emily's Bet > Ellen & David's Bet > Emily & Ellen's Bet. I re-wrote these stories for two reasons. First, I wanted to clean up some sloppiness in the writing. Second, I wanted to take the six stories, only two of which were planned to any degree at the beginning of Ellen's Bet with the others conceived and added later, and create better internal consistencies, and plot and character consistency, between them. At this point I think a reader could look at these stories as one tale comprising a six-part novel. Emily and Ellen: Emily & Ellen's Bet - Chapter Two Emily We all gathered around the bed again. I'd won the last hand and so shuffled and dealt. I suspected that with Brenda significantly behind at our dramatic break it was only a matter of time until she finally lost her last two items. As the game proceeded the guys lost the next four hands, two each, and were both down to their jeans and boxers. Then Brenda lost again, putting a smile on Allison's face. Brenda's face flushed very deeply and her hands were shaking, but she reached back and unhooked and removed her bra without protest. I'd been right about her tits: not overly large, but very firm and topped with nice red nipples. As she moved they had almost no independent motion to them. I could imagine how they might have helped hook Allison's dad. Allison lost another hand, and so was like me: barefoot and with no top except a bra. Then the boys each lost another hand to take them to just their boxers. Then Brenda lost again to provide us with a grand unveiling that Allison would probably enjoy more than the boys. "Well, Brenda?" Allison asked with amusement in her voice. "Oh, fuck!" Brenda said. "Please. Do I really have to..." she began to say and then trailed off, I suppose realizing that begging was both useless and unseemly. She just stood and took down her panties and tossed them onto the bed. I this case the carpet and drapes were perfectly synchronized. The boys both felt moved to comment, one with a low whistle and the other with some overt panting. The hard-ons pushing their boxers outward were really commentary enough. There was no doubt that Brenda was shaved bare underneath, and had just a little two inch square tuft of blonde pubes above. I'd met Allison's birth mom on two occasions. She's perhaps the sweetest and kindest person on the planet, but I could see, while looking over Brenda in her birthday suit, why Allison's dad had decided to upgrade. This also left me wondering why Allison seemed so oblivious and willing to give her dad the benefit of the doubt and Brenda all her opprobrium. Brenda was now hiding her face in her hands, embarrassed beyond words. When she took them down her eyes were shining with tears that had not fallen. "OK?" Brenda asked. "Everyone had a good look? So I guess we're done." She began to walk toward the door, leaving her clothes where they'd fallen. Again Allison interjected herself into Brenda's path. "Actually, Brenda, we're not," Allison said. "Before you're done you owe each of these guys a blow job. That's what happens if a woman loses one of our games." This was news to me. Usually we set out forfeits for the loser very clearly before we started playing. The boys looked confused too, although the possibility of getting this beautiful and naked older woman on her knees in front of them with their dick in her mouth very quickly resolved all their doubts and made them true believers in this little fiction Allison was spinning. Brenda looked stunned. "You can't be serious!" she exclaimed. "Oh, I'm dead serious, Brenda," said Allison. "That's what you lose when you lose at one of our games." "Well, I just can't," Brenda said, but she wasn't sounding especially certain. "I'm not some unattached college kid. I'm a married woman with a husband. I can't....." and here she faltered, trying to determine what euphemism might seem most innocuous for her proposed forfeit ..."well, you know, um, give out, I mean, blow, that is, perform, well, perform oral sex on someone other than my husband." I thought that Allison must be very pleased by how this was progressing. Brenda was fighting this, but was not trying to contend that she was free and clear. If I were ever held hostage, I thought, I'd want Allison as the hostage negotiator. She'd opened the bidding at two demeaning, humiliating blow jobs Brenda just wouldn't do. Now she was preparing to neatly negotiate her toward some other outcome, likely just as entertaining, and Brenda would end the negotiation entirely happy and thankful that she'd avoided the blow jobs. "Well?" Allison said, in a challenging voice to Brenda, seeking to quickly solidify her advantage. "Well, um, maybe I could do something else to make it good?" Brenda said in a timid voice. Yeah, she was hooked now, and her words were half a statement and half a question, spoken with great uncertainty. "I don't know," Allison said. "Whadda you guys think?" Brenda hardly seemed the monster Allison painted her to be. She seemed nice enough, and what responsibility fell to her regarding the break-up of Allison's parents' marriage was beyond me to know or judge. So I didn't want to see the lady traumatized by having to give out any sexual services she didn't choose to distribute. On the other hand I had to admit, at least to myself, that I was enjoying this evolving situation. Brenda seemed beside herself with embarrassment and mortification. The longer she stood there absolutely nude while the rest of us had on at least some clothes the worse it got for her. This whole scene was right up my alley. So finally I decided to pipe up and steer a middle course: one that would provide us all with an entertaining experience, not be too terribly horrendous for Brenda, and still satisfy Allison enough so she would drop this. "So what about that time with Brooklyn? She got off pretty easy, didn't she?" I asked Allison. I was hopeful she might pick up the thread, but not surprised when she didn't. I also wondered briefly from where I'd conjured the name Brooklyn for the protagonist of this fiction. I was starting to roll with authoring this little drama, and I thought that if I ever wrote any erotic fiction I'd definitely want to write into my story at least a minor character with the name Brooklyn. Brenda looked hopeful, and Allison said, "Yeah. I think I remember hearing something about that, but I wasn't there. What happened to Brooklyn again?" I stabbed Allison with a look to let her know I was beginning to feel a little burdened by the responsibility of concocting these fictions on the fly and having to choreograph her perhaps misplaced revenge on Brenda. "Well, you know she lost and had to blow the four guys in the game, but she wouldn't do it. So everyone got a crack at paddling her ass," I said, deep into an improvisational composition now. "Each player got five cracks at her ass for each piece of clothing they ended the game with. I remember all of us were really pissed that she'd welched, and really swung the paddle hard. Her ass ended up a real mess. Then she had to lie back and get herself off while everyone watched." Brenda had listened to all this with horror creeping over her face. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were wide. "Yeah, yeah, now I remember that," Allison said. "Sounds like a good substitute to me. Brenda?" "You can't mean that I'd actually have to do those things," Brenda said. "Can you?" "An ass paddling and a jill-off show. Or a couple a mouthfuls of hard cock. Take your choice," Allison said. Then she added, "Do you swallow or spit, Brenda? Well, I guess we'll find out." Brenda looked like the oft-cited deer in the headlights, unable to move or decide or speak. Allison waited for a few moments. "OK," Allison said. "We're family, aren't we? So I guess I'll choose for you. Get your dicks out and come and get it boys." "No!" Brenda squeaked and put up a hand. "No, no, no. No. I'll do it. Let's just get it over with." Allison finally let out a good chuckle right at Brenda and her extreme discomfiture. Then she left the room for a few minutes. The boys had said nothing this entire time. They'd just looked on, apparently with no idea what this was about or where these screwy bitches were taking them. They just knew it looked to be a much more fascinating evening than they'd expected, so they piped down and went along for the ride. The four of us just sort of stood around looking uncomfortable. Brenda went over to the bed and sat. Allison was soon back with what turned out to be a small, individual bread board, like one would use with an individual dinner place setting. It was perhaps twelve inches long including a short handle and four wide and maybe a quarter of an inch thick, and flat on the bottom side. Brenda's eyes got wide when she saw it. "Well then right this way," Allison said. "Your throne awaits." It was obvious now to all of us, including Brenda, that Allison was enjoying this immensely. Allison took the chair from her desk. It had a low back that curved around and ended on each side short of the front of the seat. Allison turned the chair so the back faced Brenda. Brenda breathed a deep and resigned sigh and approached the chair. The top of the chair back came to a point about halfway between her navel and the top of her pubic hair. She slowly bent over the chair and grabbed the seat with her hands at the front corners. Then she shifted her feet, spreading her legs so her feet were outside the back chair legs. She didn't really have to do that. I was at this point sitting on the bed and could see that keeping her legs together preserved her modesty, her vulva mostly hidden by her thighs. Placing her feet in this way brought her sex into clear view. I couldn't imagine she wasn't aware of that. The guys whistled and chuckled a little, and then Allison was handing the paddle to Alan, saying, "Batter up! You ended with one piece so you get five cracks." Alan approached Brenda's ass without hesitation and stood to one side of her. I saw Brenda's ass cheeks flex a few time defensively. Alan placed the paddle against her ass lightly, getting his distance right. I'd seen Alan jerkoff once after losing a game, and now he didn't seem timid at all about being on the winning end of one of these games. He drew back the paddle and swung it, making solid contact with Brenda's left ass cheek. She jumped at the impact, said, "oww, fuck" under her breath. The contact left a rectangle of pink on her buttock. Alan gave out his remaining smacks, alternating cheeks. Her took his time and left a few seconds between each, and he didn't whack her hard or soft, just laid the paddle on firmly and solidly each time. Brenda maintained her hold on the chair's seat through all of them, just letting out soft oaths after most. Alan's paddling left her ass with a slight pink hue. Ron was next, and his five were an exact repeat of Alan's: firm, solid smacks that shook Brenda's ass cheeks. He started with the cheek that had gotten only two from Alan, so they were at five each by the time he was done. Brenda took them about as well, except that her curses became more pronounced and she occasionally wiggled her ass. Her knees bent on a few occasions. Allison indicated I should go next, and reminded me I'd ended with three pieces so I had fifteen to give out. It was obvious she wanted to go last and have Brenda's ass well warmed up before she tore into it. I emulated the boys. I laid the paddle firmly on her ass cheeks, back and forth. I pulled the paddle back and swung it forward to make stiff contact each time. To be truthful, I quickly began to enjoy the situation and took my time. Sometimes I would take half a minute between swats, and tap her bottom a bit to get her anticipating another smack that I might lay on immediately but sometimes delay until she was unprepared. I could remember after one game paddling a naked guy like this. It had been the loser's forfeit, one we rarely used. I'd enjoyed that a great deal, knowing it could (but only theoretically given my unbroken winning streak in those years) be me: nude and getting a paddle swung on my ass. I'd never had the occasion to paddle a woman, my story about Brooklyn , of course, being entirely fictional. I was finding the experience, frankly, enjoyable. While I paddled her Brenda began to react to the mounting pain. For the last six or eight she reacted in a way that indicated the pain was getting to be a real, well, pain in the ass. After some swats she would grunt loudly. After others she might dip her ass down in reaction to the pain, or she might bring her foot up in back. After others she might put her head down and arch her back and give out a long, course grunt. By the time I was done with my swats Brenda had received twenty-five overall and her ass was beyond pink and well into a definite red. Allison took the paddle from me and stepped eagerly up to Brenda's red ass. She sized up her shot, but didn't let the paddle make contact, so Brenda wouldn't know she was getting ready to swing. Then she pulled back and swung with all her strength. The loud sound of the impact, something between a crack and a splat, was truly impressive. A deeper red patch sprang from Brenda's ass cheek. She arched her back and brought her head up and let out a long wail. Allison smiled at us. She put another equally hard whack, on Brenda's other cheek. Again Brenda's head came back and she began sobbing. "That's two, Brenda. Just thirteen to go," Allison said. I saw Brenda tense at Allison's words and dig her feet in. I think she was beginning to understand what was going on here, but never said a word. Allison took another five minutes to give Brenda the rest of her swats. Every one of them was cruel, and Brenda was wailing continuously soon. Somehow she managed to never let go of the chair, although her knuckles were white. For the last ten Brenda just bent her head down near the seat of the chair and let out a cry every time Allison swung the paddle on her ass. I tried to imagine myself in Brenda's place: nude, pussy on display, having to offer up my ass to an extreme of punishment and abuse over a lost card game, but I couldn't do it. I couldn't imagine what Brenda was enduring. My experience of the previous Friday in the present -- losing the card game, my degradation at the hands of Marcy, my nude exhibitions in getting the pizza, paying off my blowjob debt to the boys - as humiliating and painful and degrading as it had been, was not very analogous to Brenda's situation. I had to admire her, though. She just put her head down and took it, crying and wailing with each new assault on her buttocks, but taking it and paying her bet without complaint. Finally Allison pasted her for the last time. Brenda's ass was a mass of red , and she just lay there, draped over the back of the chair for some moments. Then she was pushing herself up and wiping at her face and eyes. Allison was beaming as she motioned toward the bed and said, "Right this way, Brenda. It's show time." Brenda didn't complain or hesitate at all. She just walked to the bed and sat down very carefully, wincing at what must have been substantial pain coming from her ass's contact with the sheets. She plumped a pillow and sat at the head of the bed, slouched, half lying and half sitting. Then her resolve and resignation seemed to leave her briefly now that she was faced with opening her legs for her little group of spectators. She looked to the side and down and opened her thighs as wide as she could. I was sitting near the end of the bed, as was Allison, and I saw that Brenda's pussy was not just shiny with wetness, but that it looked actually gooey with her juices. She had to be extremely aroused. She put both her hands between her legs, and began with the fingers of one hand to play with her vagina and with the other hand's fingers to rub her clitoris. She was still looking down and to the side, not wanting to make eye contact with any of us, and she seemed to be rubbing her clit vigorously, perhaps hoping to produce a quick orgasm and get her last task over with. This program didn't last though. In a minute her ministrations to her sex slowed, her breathing deepened. Her eyes closed for short periods, and when open they had the glassy look of carnality. She was manipulating the parts of her vulva in very particular ways, as if she were using the special technique only she knew and that produced her most satisfying experiences. The moans coming from her indicated she was now deeply lost in her pleasure, oblivious. She looked up at Alan's tented out boxers. The boys were at either side of the bed near the head. Alan was close enough that Brenda could reach him, and I saw her hand extend out to the front of his boxers. Her fingers burrowed into the opening. She worked his cock out of the flap and pulled it toward her. This took a little effort on Alan's part to shift his feet and legs. He had to kneel up on the bed, but soon his cock was hard and red and right in front of Brenda's face. She was gripping it tightly around the base and brought it to her mouth. She wrapped her lips around it and pulled it deep into her mouth and back sucking and bobbing her head in frantic heat. While she did this the fingers of her other hand dipped into her vagina while she rocked the base of her palm against her clit. All of this was too much for poor Alan. Within a minute he was coming. His first squirt went deep into Brenda's mouth, but then she used her grip to pull his cock from her mouth. She deliberately aimed it, and the rest of Alan's copious ejaculation pumped onto Brenda's face. Then she was groaning and it was obvious her arousal had just spiked to a higher and much more intense level. When this interaction with Alan had started Ron had been at about the middle of the bed opposite Alan. When he'd seen what was happening to Alan's cock he had risen and moved to the head of the bed, hoping to get lucky. When Alan's orgasm had subsided Brenda turned immediately, her eyes guided by her insensible lust seeking out the other hard cock in the room. Ron found his planning had paid off. Brenda stopped fingering her vagina and rubbing her clit just long enough to change hands. Her eyes were still unseeing, at least seeing nothing but hard cock, and I doubted her actions were the result of any conscious control: she was acting on pure sexual heat. Then she was reaching the other way to pull Ron's cock to her. She pulled on it frantically, desperate for more cock in her mouth, and Ron almost fell right over her. In a moment Ron was kneeling next to Brenda and his cock was deep in her mouth and both of them were moaning with deep satisfaction. Ron was just as excited as Alan had been at the scene he'd stumbled into tonight and it was just a couple of minutes before he was over the top. Again, the first spurt was loosed in Brenda's mouth, then Brenda pulled him from her mouth and again took his cum on her face, pointing it onto her forehead where it immediately began to slide down and over the ridges of her eye sockets. Cum from Brenda's mouth joined that on her face, and ejaculate began to drip heavily off her chin and onto her chest and breasts. Brenda finally ended her long climb and began to groan in orgasm, her pussy bucking against her hand. When the orgasm had subsided Brenda just sat there, her legs still spread wide, breathing hard, stroking herself lightly, cooling down, and coming back from her intense orgasm. Finally she seemed to come back to a slow awareness of where she was and what she was about. She blinked her eyes in surprise. One hand went to her face and she ran her fingers through the thick cum that coated her features. Her eyes widened some and she looked down and began to run her other hand through the cum that was accumulating on her chest. "Oh, shit," she said. "Oh, fuck me." In a panic she climbed from the bed, giving a loud exclamation of pain as her ass reacted badly to the friction. Then she was covering her chest and crotch, as if we'd not seen already every intimate detail of her body. She walked toward the door and out, her ass cheeks looking like two large piles of jiggling hamburger, the ninety-three percent lean, not the seventy-five. My story had lasted right through our salads and into lunch. When I finished Ellen was looking at me with naked amazement. I also noticed her color was high, her face ruddy and her cheeks a deep red. I'd ordered the veal piccata with sautéed summer squash. It was delicious and I pulled us both back to the present by saying, "You just have to try a bite of this." I picked up a small piece with my fork and proffered it. Ellen I took the veal Emily offered and let it roll around my tongue. She was right: simply mouthwatering. In return I offered her a bit of my chicken marsala, and she made noises of enjoyment at the rich taste. There was no reason Emily would fabricate some story like this, and if she had then she was a master story spinner to concoct such a tale on the spot. I know Emily well, though, so I knew her account to be true. "You mentioned in your story that you never lost at these games," I said, both a question and a statement. "Well, once I had to take off my bra in a game during college," Emily said. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled a bit. Then the smile fled her face and she flushed noticeably, and that troubled look I'd seen earlier at the office returned. "Actually," Emily continued, "my, uh, winning streak was broken Friday evening. Was it ever!" "Uh-oh," was all I could manage. She launched into her story. 3884 1.46/512345