My husband Chris has a strong personality. More like dominant. He's always the boss. To spice up our sex, he often gets me to take bets or enter little contests that he ALWAYS wins. The penalty is usually an evening as his sexual servant, sometimes a weekend. I don't mind losing a bet, but I do mind never winning!
It didn't start out that way. Early on, we would bet five dollars, or we'd say the winner would get to pick the movie we were going to see that night. I used to win some of these contests back then. But as the stakes grew, he started winning more and more. Once in a long while nowadays, I'll win a bet. But when I win, he always seems to worm his way out of paying.
Of course, when he wins, there is no way for me to worm my way out. Chris always does a little something to make sure I know I lost and that he is the boss. Usually it's something really embarrassing, often involving me getting naked. It gets his juices flowing for sure, so I guess I don't mind. Just, why can't I ever win? It's not fair.
About a month before the election, we got into this big argument about our Thanksgiving Day plans. I wanted to go somewhere and Chris wanted to have his idiot buddies over to watch football or something. We were still arguing over Thanksgiving the next day when we started another argument about politics. Eventually we agreed to let the election decide it. Since we were voting for opposing parties, whoever's guy won would get what they wanted. It killed two birds with one stone.
About a day later, Chris was up to no good again. He got me going about how the President was going to be re-elected, and how wrong I was for wanting to vote for John Kerry. I always get angry when he talks politics because he's NEVER wrong and he WON'T SHUT UP! He challenged me to "raise the stakes" in our little bet. He proposed that whoever lost the bet would have to spend that following weekend as the other's servant. I agreed. What a jerk!
Of course, I knew Chris would try to worm his way out of it if he lost. And he WAS GOING TO LOSE! So this time I raised the stakes. We have a neighbor who's often said he'd be willing to buy Chris' beloved sports car if he was willing to sell. I said I would only take the bet if he agreed to my terms: if he lost, he WOULD be my servant or else I would sell his car to the neighbor! That got Chris thinking. It's a long and slow process, trust me. But eventually he agreed.
About a week later, I was on the phone with my girlfriend Sarah. We've been friends since high school. I was the leader of our "in-crowd" back then and Sarah was my reliable sidekick. It's amazing that we've stayed friends all these years. Anyway, as I said, we were talking on the phone when she laid this little jaw-dropper on me: she said she was going to vote for Bush! I couldn't believe it. Sarah? Voting for Bush? I berated her! I argued and argued, but she wouldn't budge.
We spent a half hour on the topic before we calmed down and were chatting again about other things. So, one piece of gossip led to another and then... I told her about my bet with Chris. I couldn't help it. You know, gossip. She looked surprised at first.
"Like, sexual servant?" She asked.
"Well, you know, kind of..." I answered. "But Chris doesn't take it too far."
After a little chit-chat, Sarah told me her husband was going to vote for Kerry. I thought, finally some sanity around here! Then she said she would see if he was up for a bet.
The weekend before the election, I talked to our neighbor about selling him Chris' car. We agreed on a low price, one that had the neighbor smiling from ear to ear. I told him we were almost ready to sell the car and if we were in agreement, I would call him the following Sunday night with the final word. Chris and I just needed to talk it over one last time to be sure we wanted to sell, I told him. Our neighbor agreed immediately.
On election day morning, Chris and I were taunting each other badly. At first it was kind of playful, but by the time we were leaving the house for work I was steaming mad! Chris acted like I was SUCH an idiot for wanting to vote for Kerry. I hate the tone he takes with me when he talks politics. Then he said he had already told his buddies he would be over to watch football on Sunday, totally ignoring the fact that if Kerry won the election, he would be my slave and wouldn't be able to go. I couldn't wait to win this bet!
I left work early to vote. The lines were long and I was psyched to see that. I got home late afternoon and took a shower. I turned on the television and was very pleased to hear that there was record turnout in "the key states." The more the turnout, the better for me! Then I talked to a friend Carla, who has a friend who has another friend who knows someone in the Democratic Party. And let's just say the word was very encouraging. She also told me the Democrats were talking on the news about how well things were going, another sign the night was ours.
Chris came home a half hour later. I put on a political news station. The kind he calls "left wing" or something stupid like that. But Mr. Big Mouth wasn't talking a big game all of a sudden. He knew it wasn't looking good for his Republican idols. He dropped his bag and sat down to watch. You had to see the pain in his eyes. It's not easy watching your candidate go down in flames! And even worse to have your wife rub it in.
"I bet you'll be a great servant." I told him.
He started changing the conversation, then tried to deny we had that bet. But I was ready, I told him he WAS going to follow that bet, or else his car would be sold! I then informed him about the arrangement with our neighbor.
"You WOULDN'T!" He exclaimed. Oh, but yes I would!
At 6pm, it was looking so bad for the Republicans that I made Chris an offer. If he went ahead and began his servitude that night, I would consider forgoing the weekend service. That way he wouldn't miss his big Sunday get-together with his football buddies. At first he said no, but then my friend-of-a-friend called again and told me the winner was definitely going to be Kerry. I told him this was his last chance.
"Here's the deal, Chris. If you strip down to your boxers and ask me nicely, I may let you free for the weekend. But you have to do it now!"
He looked at the television and video of all those people in line in Florida, and then he looked at me. I kept pushing him to accept his fate.
"What will your buddies say, 'oh Chrissy-pooh can't come out to play!'"
He looked back at the television two more times, stunned that he was losing this bet and couldn't get out of it. Then he said he accepted.
"Start stripping!" I ordered. "And then we'll talk about if I'm going to let you free this Sunday."
My husband is rather cute. He's not very tall, but he's really fit. I guess that's the upside of his sports obsession! He undressed slowly, agonizing through every minute. I enjoyed the show. When he was down to his boxers, a little bulge was starting down below. Gee, how did I know that would happen? I told him to sit down at the dining table. He pulled a chair and sat. I sat down next to him.
"So Chris, do you want to watch football on Sunday with your buddies?" I talked with this condescending tone. It was great. I was finally in charge!
"Yes..."
"Hmmm... I'm considering it..." I looked up at the ceiling like I was in deep thoughts.
"What do you mean Kristin?" He actually thought I was going to take it easy on him! He was way wrong about that.
"I just need to hear you say some things, and then I'll let you go on Sunday..."
"What do you mean?"
"Chris, who's your daddy?"
"Kristin..."
"CHRIS! Don't make me sell your car..."
"But..."
"Chris, who is your daddy?"
"What do you mean?" Chris was genuinely confused, so I casually pointed at the television screen where video of John Kerry was playing. Suddenly Chris understood.
"Say it or your buddies will call you pussy-whipped when you can't come out to play on Sunday..."
Chris turned bright red with embarrassment. He looked around for a way out of this. There was no way out.
"...John Kerry is my daddy..."
I sat back and crossed a leg. I pressed my jeans flat with my hands casually.
"One more time, Chris, and louder."
I flipped my flip-flops around while I waited for him to speak up this time.
"John Kerry is my daddy!"
I smiled triumphantly. He looked so hot in his boxers, doing as I told him to do. He has these cute little hairs that form a little pathway to his cock. I leaned forward.
"Move your hands!" I ordered, and he pulled them away from his lap.
I unbuttoned his boxers and pushed down on them until his dick sprang up through the front hole.
