Two guys spend a weekend at the cabin.
"Damn it...next time we play, I am going to make him pay for this..." She imagined him in nipple clamps and other toys. The wicked grin lingered for a minute then she fetched the beer and poured it into the chilled glass.
Tim was sitting on the floor, watching the television as she came in. "Ok, good, bring it here, and I'll need a tray to set it on."
"Where are your trays, sir?" Beer in one hand, plate in the other, she was again in her slave posture.
"I don't have any. You will have to do it yourself." Not taking his gaze from the set.
"You mean you want me to..." There was a slight sputter and hesitation as she spoke.
"Yep, right here, on all fours. Hurry, I haven't had to discipline you yet, I'd hate to have to start."
Amy allowed herself one growl under her breath before walking to stand by is side. She knew better than to step in front of the television, then knelt down to hand him the glass and plate. As he took them, she bent forward and straightened her back to accept the dinner. The plate balanced easily enough, but she had to concentrate to not squirm under the chill of the frosted pilsner glass. Her ass was well exposed and her breast hung freely below her. Tim leaned over to peek under her ribs and then lowered the glass down below. "The head is a little too frothy. I need to drop it a bit." And as he spoke he lifted the rim of the cup around her breast, letting the already chilled flesh dip into the foam and cause it rescind.
"BE a shame to let beer go to waste like that" wiping the drops from her with his free hand. The brush was slow and deliberate, taking the time to let his finger appreciate their form. "Would you like a taste?"
His hand was before her face, mere inches away. The smell of the beer tickled her nose. "Thank you sir." She licked the droplets, and the saltiness of his palm. So close to her face, she saw the firm strength in his hands. She imagined them gently caressing her, the fingers trailing in small wakes behind them. Damn him, he was getting to her. Whether the adventure of the dare or the fantasy of the submission, or her own suppressed desire for him, she was beginning to enjoy the evening...and yet the constant treatment of subjection and servitude pissed her off just as deeply. "When are we going to get around to sex?" she thought to her self "Isn't that the ultimate goal of betting someone to be a slave?"
He replaced the cold glass on her hindquarter and set about to finish his sandwich. Every few bites, he would wipe his hand on the backside of her thigh as if it was a napkin, the touch was electric, but the gesture was so distant. Finally finishing his beer, he gave her a small swat on the ass cheek. "I'm done. Once you've cleared these and finished the dishes, we'll see what we can find for you to do next."
"Thank you sir. I'll return shortly." She gathered the dinnerware and hurried back to the kitchen. She quickly washed the dishes, thankful for the warmth of the water coming from the sink. Wiping her hands and turning around she saw Tim standing there, waiting for her.
"Now then...after deciding that you are at least good for dressing, cooking, cleaning, and since its too dark to determine if you can garden or drive, the only position left to test is if you are suited as a pleasure slave. That should take us through the night and give me an idea of agenda for tomorrow." His tone was even and flat, as if interviewing her for a job. She wondered why he was so reserved, so distant. Was this just a game to him and nothing more? But this "pleasure slave" idea...surely he must want something. Tim wasn't the type to take this so lightly.
Then she caught his eyes.