Game? On.


Saturday night was holy. Sacred. Poker night with the boys could not be missed for any excuse; not only were you not invited back, but you were excluded from the club forever more. The game was serious business.
I couldn't believe I was invited this week as one of the men.
Donning a pinstripe suit and fedora, cigar in hand, packing and ready, it was time to play. Ace high to start the pool; wasn't a terrible hand, but I wanted to test the waters and judge the other four men around the table. Aha, there. As I lose my money, I notice Mr. Purple Tie to my right has a nervous tick to his mouth, Left side. Fantastic.
Time to lay down the bets. I have a pair of twos so far. Let's go... wait a minute. Is that a ring gag in the center of the table? Interesting.
"Ok, gents. You know the rules. No more monetary bets."
The serving girl has a nervous smile while she nods, four hungry looks in her direction and a quizzical one. Well then.
The dark green shirt wins that hand and takes up the ring gag with impetus. Grabbing her wrist and looking forcefully into her eyes he commands attention. "I suggest you strip." Cold, calculating. She trembles as she does so, his hand on her shoulder. Once unclothed, he grabs her neck in a choke with one hand and works the bit into her mouth with the other. He looks over his shoulder once the gag is in place and she is subdued. "Mike, you were a disgrace last week. You let her fight you. You obviously need more practice."
We worked through hands including cuffs, spreader bars, rope... until we got to an egg device with a remote control. I won the hand with three of a kind kings. I could see a bit of interest around the table as to how I would get on, considering my less than commanding disposition. Very well, then.
I stand, cigar in hand, and take a hit before moving to the trussed up woman on the floor. I regard her for a moment, relishing her fear at an unknown person touching her in such an intimate place. With a smirk, I drop ash across her chest. Ah, now there's that cute little tremble; a rabbit getting stared down. Kneeling, a finger is all I need to test the waters. She's almost ready.... I get a gasp as I bring my finger up and across her clit before smearing it across her knee. No emotion but a cruel smile. "Gents, I do believe you need to train them better as well." I work the egg into the ring gag just enough to moisten it on both sides before insertion. I turn back to the table and hear a slight moan; I had turned on and off the remote in quick succession on the way back to my seat. I get a nod from Mr. Dark Green Shirt before we pick up the remaining hands. The remote hits the center bid several times; we all were searching for control and we won several times.
"Last hand, gents" came the final call.
A condom hit the center of the table.

Balls to the wall

I was once told to never show up at a party again in 'those old clothes.' I took that to mean dresses and high heels. Corsets. Feminine sexy.

 But I feel sexy like this too, damn it. Those heels are only half of me.

 Entering the crowded room, I suspect there will be murmurs, glances, hushed conversations and looks. I feel sexy damn it. This side is not afraid to scream 'fuck you.' I'm willing to pick a fight. I'm willing to get raw, dirty, filthy and primal. Fuck the people that want the heels. The pretty little piece of ass, pussy and tits. Fuck you, people that want the pretty package, the box checked off, the smoldering look from long, curled lashes. Fuck you for thinking my jeans, my athletic wear wasn't as much a part of me. Fuck you, who only sees the perky tits framed high in the corset or bra. Tomorrow I'll agree with you. Tomorrow I'll put on the dress you like and feel sexy as sin. Tomorrow I'll be that someone else. I was yesterday. That other half.

 Tonight, I'm the side I hated. The side I hide.

 Athletic shorts, a black wifebeater. Simple, really. They hide compression bras and a jock strap. Fuck yes, I'm packing; a weighty bulge between my legs that feels right in this moment. Do you know what I want? I want a fight. A knock-down, hardcore brawl. Grappling on the floor, sweating, pinned. I want shoved up against a wall, across a table, face-first onto the floor. Ass high. I want my hair pulled while you make me roar. Fill my ass while I feel my 'package' bouncing. Balls deep, balls to the wall. You want this bitch, this boi? You think you're man enough to take me when I have the balls to say 'make me?' I dare you to break my boi. Make my boi pay for saying 'fuck you.' Challenge him. Best him using your mind, your control. If you don't - if you can't. If you're not man enough? I'll shove my 'dick' in YOUR face.

 It's that simple.
 
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