Loading...Saturday afternoon on a brisk November day in Calgary. I was into my second month of a six month stay, having come up from Houston for a consulting job in the oil fields. So far, Calgary had been nonstop hard work, and this day was the first break I’d taken. Keith, a foreman with the company I was contracted to, had invited me to watch a hockey game with his girlfriend Danielle and his crew of tough, muscled roustabouts and roughnecks.
I don’t know shit about ice hockey, but I’d soaked up enough to know that the sport is to a Canadian what Jesus is to the Pope. The Toronto Maple Leafs were in town to play the Calgary Flames and people insisted I understand the significance of this Blessed Event. Most were three beers beyond explaining anything. Like any stranger in a strange land, I smiled politely.
Keith and I were talking shop when angry female voices coming from the kitchen cut through the din.
“Sounds like a fight is brewing,” I said.
“It’s probably Danielle,” Keith said. “She’s pissed I invited Lucia.” He shrugged. “What the hell, they’re big girls. Let ’em sort it out.”
Lucia, a dark-haired beauty and the only other female, had caught my eye and sympathy. Her proudly worn Maple Leafs jersey, autographed by the team and an island of blue in a sea of red and black, marked her like a scarlet letter. And the fairness of her sex merited no quarter as the insults and jokes, seldom good-natured and often crude, came fast and furious. Lucia defiantly stood her ground, answering in kind every affront to her beloved Maple Leafs.
I’d seen Keith apply his conflict logic on the job site, standing by as quarreling team members settled differences the old-fashioned way. Judging from the commotion, the girls weren’t sorting it out. No one else seemed to notice or care. My beer was approaching empty, and not being too sophisticated to enjoy a good cat fight, I wandered into the kitchen.
Danielle and Lucia had squared off in front of the refrigerator. Danielle, a few years older than Lucia and damned attractive too, stood with blood vessels pulsing in her temples and fists balled ready to swing.
“Ladies,” I said. “Let’s not get too personal. It’s just a game.”
“This isn’t about the game, dumb ass,” said Danielle. “Lucia was fuck-dancing with Keith last night right in front of me. She’s still coming on to him and she had better lay off.”
Lucia fired back. “We were just dancing and having some fun. A little flirting never hurt anything.”
“Flirting, huh?” said Danielle. “Dancing on your knees with your goddamn face in his crotch? Flirting my ass.”
“And you know what?” said Lucia. “His dick was hard. I could’ve fucked him right under your nose.”
“Lucia,” Danielle seethed. “Get your ass out of my house.”
Lucia didn’t budge. “I do not take orders from you. This is Keith’s house and I’m staying until he says otherwise. So fuck off.”
Danielle’s right hook thudded hard into my palm as I pushed between them. “Ladies, let’s keep the violence on the ice. Leave the fighting to the Maple Trees and the Flames.”
Lucia huffed. “Maple Leafs, you idiot.”
“I’m getting Keith,” said Danielle. “He can throw you out.”
“Hey, Danielle,” Lucia said. “Dumb ass here gave me an idea. Instead of running to daddy, you want to make a little wager on the game?”
Danielle stopped. “I’m listening.”
Lucia folded her arms. “Suppose . . . the winner got to humiliate the loser?” she said. “You know, put her in her place. How ’bout the loser strips and dances? I strip if the Flames win. You strip if the Maple”—she glowered at me—”Leafs win. A bare ass naked dance in front of everyone should do the trick. I’ve got the balls for it. Do you?” She raised her palm. “Bet?”
Uncertainly drifted across Danielle’s eyes, then cleared. She smacked Lucia’s palm. “It’s a bet. Michael’s our witness. No backing out.”
“No backing out,” said Lucia.
I would normally consider alcohol-fueled bets a bad idea, but watching Danielle strut away and Lucia wiggle onto a counter top made this one acceptable. From a purely salacious point of view, I had no preference who won. Both women were easy on the eyes.
Lucia fished a beer out of an ice box. “Damn. Talk about a temper. That woman needs therapy. My name’s Lucia, by the way, and what hole did you crawl out of? Maple Trees? Give me a fucking break.”
“I came up from Houston for a few months work. Sorry, I don’t know much about hockey.”
“No shit. It’s not that complicated. Look . . . Michael is it? Two teams of six guys get on the ice and try to beat the hell out of each other.” Lucia swilled beer. “So, Michael the hockey idiot, what do you think of Calgary?”
“It’s cold, but it’s a job.”
“Yeah, a job would be nice,” Lucia said with a sigh, then she pointed at her jersey. “Toronto. Maple. Leafs. Get it? I’m from Toronto. I’m staying with friends while I look for work.”
The strains of “O, Canada” drifted in from the living room.
Lucia tossed a beer at me. “Let’s go.”
We found adjacent seats. News of the wager had spread because heads kept swiveling between Danielle and Lucia, and you didn’t need telepathy to read the thoughts running through the heads. Which one do I want to see naked? Is getting a show from Danielle worth a Flames’ loss? Screw the Maple Leafs, Lucia, let’s see the goods. And so on until the referee dropped the puck.
As the game progressed, and when she wasn’t hurling hockey abuse at someone’s face, Lucia’s explained hockey strategy. Even my untrained eye could recognize a powerful defensive contest. Scoreless, the game ground on.
Maybe because I wasn’t giving her shit about her team, or maybe as the only outsiders, Lucia and I hit it off and struck up an implicit alliance. She had a sharp wit, an impulsive mind, and a devilish knack for pushing people’s buttons. My proximity offered her modest cover from the brutal ribbing and her encyclopedic knowledge of the game held my interest. My ego basked in her attention and my libido, deprived since leaving Houston, frolicked through the possibilities lurking in her velvety, sandalwood fragrance. It was a favorite of mine.
In the game’s last few minutes, the Flames seemed to catch some wind in their sails, pressing the Maple Leafs hard. With a few seconds left, the Flames offense broke out, one player boring in on the Maple Leafs goal like a kamikaze. The room roared to life when the Flames’ player unleashed a ferocious shot, only to have it swatted away like a mosquito. The buzzer sounded with the players scrambling for the puck.
Score 0 — 0. A cacophony of curses and armchair coaching blossomed.
Lucia exhaled a long held breath. “Wow, that was close. That Flames forward saved my ass.”
“He did?” I asked.
She scooted back in her chair. “Yeah. Pay attention. He decided to be the hero and took a slap shot when he should have passed the puck ’cause there was time to set up a better shot. Bet he gets his balls chewed off.”
Lucia nibbled her lower lip and scanned the room as a naughty gleam caught hold in her eyes. A sharp elbow slammed into my ribs. “Know what, Michael? An innocent little strip tease is too cheap for a game this good. I think I’ll run up the price. Watch this.” Lucia drained her beer and dug her fingers into my shoulder for balance as she climbed unsteadily onto her chair. “Hey, Danielle,” she yelled. “Since we’re in OT, wanna up the ante?”
The room quieted.
Danielle, curled up against Keith on the sofa, hesitated, then said, “Sure, name it.”
Lucia paused for a dramatic beat as the gleam in her eyes ignited into a wicked blaze. “The loser strips AND has to suck off every man in the house. Any way the winner wants it.”
A graveyard silence descended. Chips and beer bottles halted centimeters from parted lips. Someone nearby whispered, “Hell yes.” Danielle sat frozen like an ice sculpture, her mouth open but no sound coming out. Finally, she thawed enough to look to Keith, but his impassive shrug gave her nothing.
Danielle twice cleared her throat. “That’s a little extreme, Lucia. I think just a strip tease—.”
Lucia set the hook. “Hey everybody, Danielle’s a chicken shit coward! Come on girlfriend, take the bet. If I lose I’ll blow Keith first. It’s gonna happen sooner or later anyway so you might as well watch me do it. You might learn a trick or two.”
Danielle leaped up gunning for Lucia; Keith grabbed her.
“I’ll take your bet, you fucking slut,” Danielle screamed, flailing against her boyfriend. “Loser sucks cock. Maple Leafs’ haven’t got a fucking chance.”
“Flames are a bunch of limp dicks,” answered Lucia just as loud. “And their fans.”
Lucia pranced like a wild mustang as I corralled her into the kitchen.
“God this is fun,” she said. “Do I have that bitch’s number or what? Did you see the look on her face?”
I’d seen some outrageous wagers, but this one had me nearly speechless. “Lucia, the Flames might win.” It was lame, but I could think of nothing else to say.
Lucia leaned against a counter, cracked open a beer, took a long pull, and stared at me like she was looking through bars into a padded cell. “No, they won’t, and I’ll get to watch Danielle choke on cock. But so what, hypothetically speaking, if they do? I have to suck a few dicks. It’s not like I haven’t done that before.” Another pull half-emptied the bottle. “Michael, hon, don’t look so concerned, it’s my mouth. Besides, you’ve got a blow job coming no matter what.”
I was considering Lucia’s last statement when Keith barreled into the kitchen. “Lucia,” he said. “Please tell me you’re drunk?”
Lucia curtsied. “No, sir, just comfortably buzzed. Your pet’s trying to weasel out, isn’t she?”
“No, she’s not,” Keith said. “All I can say is you’ve gored her ox one time too many. Michael, keep a leash on this one. Better keep ’em apart until the game’s over, then we’ll talk.”
Most of the guys streaming in for beer and food were polite to the point of awkwardness. Some just stared at Lucia. One asshole named Nelson asked her to open her mouth to see if it was big enough for his dick. Lucia flipped him off.
Waiting for the OT play, Lucia ran through the rules for my benefit. No ties were allowed. The teams would play a five minute overtime period. If the overtime period ended in a tie, the teams would go to a shootout. If the shootout ended in a tie, a sudden death shootout would decide the matter, with the team scoring first the winner.
The score remained 0 — 0 after the overtime period. The game cut away to truck commercials.
The 0 — 0 tie held at the end of the first shootout. More commercials.
Danielle paced behind the sofa, pale as a ghost and snarling at anyone who approached. Lucia bounced her knees and choked her beer. Sweat gleamed on her temples.
“You OK?” I asked.
“Hold my hand.”
The sudden death play started and you could have heard a butterfly sneeze. The Flames drew first shot. The referee blew his whistle, sending the Flames’ player toward the Maple Leafs’ goal . . . puck deflected.
Here and there people groaned and Lucia squeezed my hand. Her pulse vibrated against my skin.
The first Maple Leafs’ shooter swooped in on the Flames goalie and fired . . . puck smothered.
“Shit,” muttered Lucia.
The Flame’s second shooter launched himself at the Maple Leafs goal, gathered speed, whipped his stick . . . puck in the net.
Game over.
1 — 0 Calgary Flames.
Keith’s crew jumped to their feet, yelling, back slapping, punching fists into the air. Danielle screamed the loudest.
Lucia stared at the television like a spotlighted doe, her hand slack and clammy.
Danielle pranced over. “Hey loser, are you ready to suck?” She demonstrated on the neck of her beer bottle.
Keith interjected. “Hold on, people. Let’s go have a powwow.”
A little life returned to Lucia’s hand. “Michael, too,” she said.
Keith led us to a bedroom and closed the door. Lucia sat on the edge of the bed, knees pressed together.
“First thing,” said Keith. “Lucia, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
Danielle jumped in. “What the fuck? We had a bet!”
“Back off a minute,” snapped Keith. “You won, so show some sportsmanship. Lucia?”
Lucia looked at Danielle, me, then Keith. “Keith, you’re a sweetheart,” she said, voice shaking as the reality of losing replaced the shock of losing. “But Danielle’s right. We made a fair bet. I lost, and I’ll pay up.”
“Damn right you will,” said Danielle.
Keith turned to his girlfriend. “You’re really gonna make her do this?”
“She strips,” said Danielle. “She’s not getting out of that. But I’ll let her off the hook for the blow jobs for a price.”
“Name it,” said Lucia.
“You piss on that Maple Leafs jersey in front of everyone.”
Lucia answered with a cold stare. “Fuck you. I’ll suck cock.”
“I thought so,” said Danielle. “You’ll dance three songs. You take off your clothes in the first two and dance the last naked. Then you suck off every man who wants it.”
“I get it.” Lucia pushed back her hair, thinking, then said in less shaky voice, “I’ll suck the guys one at a time. No fucking. Good enough?”
Danielle folded her arms. “No, too easy,” she said. “I get to humiliate you, that was the bet.”
“Yeah.” Lucia sighed. “How?”
“I want you naked, tied up, and the boys get to use your face like a pussy. No cleaning up between dicks.”
“Damn it, Danielle,” I said. “You know how many guys are out there.”
“Michael’s right, babe” said Keith. “Ease up on her.”
“Thanks guys,” Lucia said, “but it was my idea. Michael, you heard me say it: the loser gets humiliated. Anyway, if I’d won I’ve done as bad or worse to her. OK Danielle, if I do it your way, the bet’s paid in full. No bullshit about me dodging out. Deal?”
“Deal,” said Danielle.
Lucia pressed her hands into her thighs. “Then I agree to your terms.”
Danielle smirked.
Keith shrugged. “OK, Lucia,” he said. “If you’re determined, I ain’t gonna debate it. Anything else?”
A vision of a naked Lucia on her knees amidst a brawl popped into my head. “Danielle,” I said. “Draw names to see who goes when. That’ll make it fair and might head off trouble.”
Keith and Danielle left to prepare. Lucia flopped back on the bed, covering her face with her hands. “Michael, what the fuck have I gotten myself into?”
“Danielle’s scored her points,” I said. “Do the dance and bail.”
“That’s sweet, but . . . I like a challenge.” Lucia held out her hand and I hauled her to her feet. “No way in hell is that bitch getting the better of me. It’s an alpha female thing. If I run away, she’s dominant. If I stand and take her shit, we’re still equals. Fucked up, huh?”
Yes, I thought. “Just trying to help you out.”
Lucia threw her arms around my neck. “Thanks, I think I can handle this, but be my guardian and make sure things don’t get out of hand, OK? I don’t trust Danielle. Well, it’s time to suck it up and get on with the show.”
She seemed oblivious to her Freudian slip.
* * * * *
Danielle flashed a wintry smile as I settled in. Her brightly lit, circular seating would leave little of Lucia to the imagination.
Keith strode into the circle holding a wooden baseball bat. “OK people, listen up,” he belted. “You all know Danielle and Lucia made a wager on the game. Now, I told Lucia that she could back out. However, she said she intends to honor the bet. Both parts.”
A chorus of whistles, applause, and affirmative swearing greeted this news.
“That’s enough,” said Keith. “Lucia’s gonna dance now, and no touching allowed. Treat her nice or else. OK, Lucia, you’re on.”
I don’t know what expectations others had, but mine imploded the moment Lucia strode barelegged and barefoot onto her stage. She’d dispensed with her jeans, leaving the jersey pulling double duty as both dress and shirt. Lucia stopped dead center, jammed her hands on her hips, then, head turned over her right shoulder, prowled counterclockwise, extending one lean leg and foot catlike in front of the other. Her eyes, sharpened into sultry gemstones with black mascara and liner, cut laser-like from person to person. Either she’d done this before, or she’d swallowed her pride to give nothing to Danielle. Or maybe both.
Lucia stopped in front of Danielle and pursed her red lips into a lazy O.
“Music,” she said.
ZZ Top’s “Gimme All Your Lovin'” blasted forth. Lucia ignored the pounding beat to make one more orbit of her stage, spiraling to its center where she stopped, closed her eyes, and dropped her arms to her sides. Her lips silently shaped the lyrics as her head began to rock, then her shoulders, then her hips as her body sank into the pounding rhythm. She wasn’t the best dancer I’d seen, but she knew how to move.
It happened so fast I didn’t see it coming. Lucia’s warm Maple Leafs jersey swooshed against my feet with her perfume trailing behind it like a meteor’s tail. Lucia danced in place a few chords in nothing but a red bra and panties. The bulky shirt had concealed a compact, curvy figure reminiscent of femme fatales from Hollywood’s golden age. Soft and firm in all the right places, Lucia’s body, to put it crudely, was built to fuck.
Lucia slowed as “Gimme All Your Lovin'” faded, and when the music ended, she was posed as she had started, soaking up a round of lusty applause peppered with shouts of encouragement. A wet gleam between her breasts betrayed her exertion. A Canadian loonie arced through the air and bounced off her thigh. Lucia smiled.
A sideways glance didn’t find Danielle smiling. If she was expecting a chastened Lucia struggling through a painful self-exhibition, she’d want a refund.
The hard riff of “Tush” cut off the applause. Lucia plunged into the song, working the circle for maybe half a minute. She stopped in front of a big red-haired kid in a Flames jersey, where, dancing in place, Lucia slipped one hand behind her back to unhook her bra. Two shrugs dropped it into his lap. Her wide-eyed admirer lofted the prize like a trophy only to have Lucia snatch it away and sashay over to me.
“Hi,” she said, dropping her bra in my lap. “Hang on to this for me.”
Lucia pirouetted to Keith, jiggled her ass in his face, and with great exaggeration, shimmied out of her panties to howls and cheers. Thankfully, she didn’t shave her pussy, opting for a close-cut triangle of bush low on her mound. She bestowed Keith a good, long look before moving on to spread her charms amongst the others. Lucia tossed her panties into the air, caught them in her teeth, and dropped to her hands and knees. Panties dangling from her mouth, she ended the song crawling like a puppy looking for someone to toss its toy as more loonies pelted her.
Lucia spit out her panties at my feet as “Pearl Necklace” cranked up.
“Pearl Necklace,” of all songs. Lucia lap-danced her way through the entire song. She’d grab a guy’s shoulders for balance, straddle his thighs, and squirm and tease with her breasts in his face. Even Danielle got the treatment but only better when Lucia, to wild approval, slathered her breasts over Danielle’s shocked face. Lucia retreated to the circle’s center and limbo danced onto her back, then, cupping her sex with one hand and sucking on the fingers of the other, she writhed in time with the music, letting a faux orgasm consume her as the song faded.
To chants of “Encore! Encore!” as money rained down, Lucia breathlessly bowed her way around the circle. I wasn’t so sure she’d faked the orgasm.
Keith leaned across a rigid Danielle. “Michael,” he said. “Hide her someplace for a few minutes.”
Lucia covered up and collected her tips. Most of the guys offered congratulations; a few offered in all seriousness to buy a private show. Lucia thanked each one with a smile. I steered her to the bedroom we’d used earlier, where she fell back on the bed, shaking and giggling.
“Oh my god,” she said. “I cannot believe I just did that. How did I do? Be honest.”
“Awesome. Those guys spend half their lives in strip clubs and you had them eating out of your hand. And you didn’t give Danielle an iota of satisfaction.”
Lucia squealed and kicked her legs. “That’s what I wanted. Have some fun and rub her face in it. I just went for it. Hey, hockey idiot, did you tip me?”
I feigned offense. “I’m your guardian, remember? It would have been improper.”
“Bullshit.” Lucia flashed her pussy. “You liked this as much as anyone, so you owe me. Hey, make yourself useful and get me a goddamn beer.”
* * * * *
When Keith opened the door, Lucia, down from the dance high and sitting pensively, nearly jumped out of her skin.
“Lucia,” he said, “This is your last chance. Go or no go.”
“I’m going through with it.”
“OK,” said Keith. “Ready when you are.”
Lucia peeled off her jersey and procrastinated by folding and stacking it neatly with her jeans and bra, then she pulled her hair into a tight ponytail, pulled it loose, and tried again. Lucia’s nerves made her pee twice before I escorted her to the living room. A fresh white sheet was spread over the floor where she had danced.
Danielle met us with a coil of black rope.
I took the rope. “I’ll do that.”
“Fine,” Danielle said, “I want her on her knees. Tie her ankles and her arms behind her back.”
The rope was quality, finely braided nylon, about 10 millimeters in diameter. Coincidence or not, it was near perfect for the task—maybe Keith and Danielle had little secret.
“Danielle,” said Lucia. “May I keep my panties on?”
“No,” said Danielle.
“Bitch.” Lucia, swearing under her breath, shucked off her panties and knelt naked. “A little mercy wouldn’t kill anyone.”
“Have you ever been tied up?” I asked.
“Do you mean like bondage, S and M, shit like that?”
“Yes, Lucia, shit like that.”
“No comment,” she said with a fleeting corrupt smile.
I showed Lucia the rope. “Watch me. This knot’s called a French bowline. One loop goes around each ankle and it won’t slip. This is a slipped reef knot for your hands and arms; it’s just a square knot with a quick release. You won’t have any bruises or rope burns, I promise. Now be a good girl and cross your ankles.”
Around us, two distinct vibes permeated the air: the voyeuristic thrill of watching a girl get tied up, and, disturbingly, a pack of timber wolves circling a hobbled fawn. Lucia succumbed to the latter, chewing her lower lip and offering neither resistance nor assistance as I moved her limbs into position. Her scent diverted my attention. Nervous perspiration had ratcheted up the volume of her sandalwood, and it’s timbre had sharpened. I concentrated on the rigging, guiding Lucia’s ankles into the French bowline and checking the fit. I tied a few loose loops around her upper arms.
“I want it tighter,” said Danielle. “Push her tits out.”
“Lucia?” I asked.
“It’s OK.”
I folded Lucia’s arms behind her back and cinched the rope around her upper arms, curving her shoulders back and forcing her breasts forward. Lucia spread her knees for balance, then it hit me, the extra kick in her scent – Lucia was turned on. I finished the tie with an unnecessary flourish just to take it in.
“Comfortable?” I asked.
“More or less.” Lucia’s voice dropped to a whisper. “After this you and me are gonna have a come-to-Jesus meeting. Where the hell did you learn this shit?”
It was my turn to smile. “No comment. You ready?”
“No, but it doesn’t matter now,” Lucia said, testing my handiwork. “Kiss for luck?”
I kissed her.
“Thanks, hon, now get out of the line of fire.”
I nodded to Keith.
Danielle offered me a slip of paper. “Want to get in line?”
“No,” I said. “How many?”
Danielle smiled like a fox in a hen house. “I had seven before she danced. Eleven after.”
Every man except Keith and I. “Assholes.”
Danielle’s jaw tightened. “Michael, don’t get too sweet on that slut ’cause she’s gonna be a cum mop when I’m finished with her.” She smooched her lips. “Good thing you already got your first kiss in.”
“Listen up,” Keith said, making eye contact around the room. “The only thing you’re gettin’ is a blow job. You will keep your hands and your dicks above Lucia’s waist. If she says stop, you stop. Anybody doesn’t”—Keith twirled the bat—”I’ll turn your head into a line drive. Is there anyone out there who doesn’t understand me?”
Silence. This was Keith the hard-ass oil field foreman talking. They understood.
“OK, Danielle,” said Keith, “It’s your show.”
Danielle jerked Lucia’s ponytail hard enough to get a yelp. “Our captive fellatrix will suck you off in the order I call your names. You can come in her mouth, but . . . I’ll buy a case of premium beer for every man who shoots his load on this pretty face.”
Lucia, throat exposed to the wolves, looked like she’d bitten into a lemon, but she held her tongue.
Danielle fished a name out of her pocket. “Travis. Lucia’s mouth awaits your cock.”
“Hey that’s me!” The red-haired guy Lucia had shed her bra for stepped forward. Tall with beefy thighs and arms, he towered over the bound girl.
Lucia smiled bravely. “Travis, you got something for me?”
Travis unzipped his jeans and stopped, suddenly self-conscious. “Just in front of everybody?” he asked to scattered laughter.
Lucia nuzzled his crotch. “Come on, Travis, I can’t do this if you don’t take him out. Put him in my mouth.”
Travis stared down at Lucia. “What the hell.” He plopped his cock and balls onto her upturned face to scattered calls of “Attaboy.”
Lucia pressed her cheek against his goods, inhaled deeply, and delivered welcoming licks that swelled Travis’ cock to parade attention. Curving upward from a dense thatch of curls, Travis’ cock seemed of average proportions. With her hands tied, Lucia played a frustrating game of cat and mouse with the bobbing head until Travis lent a hand. Lucia latched on like it was a candy cane, licking up and down until his cock was wet and slick, then she began to draw him deeper into her mouth until her nose snuggled into his pubic hair.
“Holy shit, the bitch can deep throat,” someone said.
Lucia would draw Travis’ cock into her throat three or four times, pull up for air, lick and nibble the head, then swallow again. Travis answered each dive with a satisfied groan. When he could endure no longer, Travis stroked his cock while Lucia sealed her lips firmly around its tip. With her wide, sparkling eyes urging him on, Travis ejaculated with a grunt. Lucia sucked until Travis had nothing left, showed him what he’d given her, and swallowed.
“Thank you, Travis,” Lucia said, licking her lips. “That was delicious.”
Travis’ performance broke the ice because the next two men unlimbered their cocks without reservation. Lucia’s fellatory skills dispatched both quickly. The second man’s load she swallowed neat; the third splashed a weak load across her cheeks.
“Fuck,” said Lucia. “Come on guys. Let me swallow it.”
Maybe it was the cum dangling from Lucia’s chin, but number four chickened out. Neither coaxing from Lucia nor his friends would change his mind.
Four down. It was going pretty well for Lucia.
Danielle called the next name. “Nelson.”
Lucia frowned. Nelson, a wiry, pompous ass of a man about forty swaggered up to Lucia, pulled up his shirt and pushed down his trousers. He and Lucia had traded some nasty insults that went beyond friendly rivalry, and here he was slapping her face with his fat cock. Nelson played this game until he was erect, then dragged her face up and down his shaft, ordering her to spit instead of lick for lubrication.
“Juice it good, cunt,” he said, “Cause your takin’ it all.”
Nelson shoved his cock down Lucia’s throat and she choked. Laughing, he held Lucia on his cock until the convulsion subsided, then began to roughly fuck her face. His cock wasn’t long, but Lucia struggled with its girth, occasionally gagging because she couldn’t find a rhythm in his staccato thrusts. Nelson would yank her head up at unpredictable intervals, let her grab one or two quick breaths, then drive her head down again.
Danielle, her nipples straining under her shirt, watched with sublime joy as Nelson raped Lucia’s face. The room had fallen quiet except for Lucia’s sporadic “glucks” and Nelson’s misogynistic, obscenity-laced commentary.
“Christ, Nelson,” someone said. “Give her a break.”
“I ain’t heard the bitch say stop,” said Nelson.
“Lucia, are you OK?” Keith asked.
Her bound hands made thumbs up signs.
Nelson’s aggressive face-fucking churning up thick streams of saliva that spilled off Lucia’s chin; her nose ran; tears from the reflexive gagging washed away her mascara in dark rivulets. I don’t think Lucia, preoccupied with snatching oxygen and not puking, sensed Nelson’s impending orgasm.
“Danielle,” he said, “I’ll take that case of beer.” Nelson jerked Lucia’s head off his cock and unleashed a torrent semen between her wide open eyes. It spewed into her hair, poured down her cheeks, and dribbled in milky beads from her chin. More heavy spurts thickened the mess on her face.
Nelson wiped his cock in Lucia’s hair. “How’s that feel, you dirty cocksucker? The Flames rule, whore.” Nelson hitched up his pants, leaving Lucia basting in his cum.
“That’s more like it,” said Danielle, scribbling Nelson’s name onto her beer list. She turned to me. “Want to kiss her now? Untie her, this is too easy.”
I loosened Lucia’s knots and helped her stand. Sweat trickled down her ribs. A musky scent suggestive of weak bleach mingled with her perfume.
“Motherfucker,” Lucia said, wiping cum from her eyelids. She opened her eyes to narrow slits, blinking to make tears. “Shit, that stings. How many more?”
“Seven,” I said. “Want something to drink?”
Lucia forced her eyes fully open. “Not funny.” She sniffed. “Danielle, may I have some tissues?”
“No,” called Danielle.
“Fucking wh—” Lucia caught herself, then smiled sweetly. “Hey Danielle, I can’t wait for Keith’s load. Wanna snowball it with me?”
Danielle turned red. “A couple of you apes bring a table from the kitchen.”
“You can’t help yourself, can you?” I said.
“No,” said Lucia, scooping cum off her face and eating it. “This is fun in a perverse way.”
Two men carried in a table and draped the sheet over it.
“Michael,” Danielle said, “Our little cocksucker needs more of a challenge. Tie on her back on the table with her head hanging off. Let’s see if she can suck upside down.”
“You bitch,” said Lucia.
“You lost,” said Danielle. “Get your whore ass on the table.”
Lucia climbed on the table and lay with her head hanging off. I slipped the rope around each ankle and tied them off to the table legs. I tied her wrists to the ankle loops, leaving her arms at her sides. It wasn’t a pretty tie, but it was minimally restrictive and would keep her from sliding off the table.
Lucia gave the ropes an exploratory tug. “Oh well, might as well make this fun.” Surveying the room from her inverted position, she found her target. “Danielle, you got any guys out there with real dicks? I want some meat, goddammit.”
Hoots and cries like “Your turn’s comin’, girl,” “Got it right here, baby,” answered Lucia’s challenge.
Danielle held up a slip of paper. “Bob, you’re up.”
Short and stocky with tattoo-burnished arms, a long goatee, and unkempt hair, Bob looked like a tough customer, but he proved himself almost a gentleman. He didn’t say much, just dropped his heavy sac onto Lucia’s face with a laconic “Lick my balls.” Bob dipped his cock into Lucia’s mouth a few times, but preferred to stroke himself while Lucia slurped his balls. He didn’t last long, signaling his climax with a long, low groan as he aimed at her mouth.
Lucia wiggled her tongue like bait. “Right here, Bob, gimme your load.”
He missed. Cum jetted across her breasts and stomach to puddle in her navel and glisten in her bush like little pearls. Bob managed to get most of his trailing shots into Lucia’s mouth.
“That was good,” Bob said. “Thanks, Lucia.”
Lucia licked her lips and surveyed the damage. “You’re welcome.”
Next up was a quiet, well-dressed man named Chuck. Lucia welcomed his cock with a smile.
“Oh, Chuckie,” she said, “That’s a nice one. Give him to me.”
“Sorry, no,” he said. “Got a girlfriend, you know. That said, I don’t think she’d mind me expressing my opinion of cunts who root for the Maple Leafs.” Chuck ignored Lucia’s entreaties as he methodically jerked off on her face. Lucia took a cum squirt up the nose trying to dodge another sperm shower.
“Goddammit,” she yelled, snorting cum out her nose. “Will you assholes stop doing that? Just come in my mouth, OK?”
Danielle high-fived Chuck. “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Three more men took their turns, behaving themselves much like Travis so that Lucia hardly broke a sweat. Still, all three glazed her face. Lucia, apparently resigned to this fate, kept her cool.
Danielle laughed and pulled the last name. “Victor, you’re the last.”
Keith’s assistant foreman and a strapping, dark-haired, intense man, stepped up to the table.
“Hey, Victor,” said Lucia. “Think you can put a load in my mouth?”
Victor grinned down at her. “Depends. Who’s the best team?”
Lucia grinned back. “Maple Leafs.”
Victor loosed his cock. “You sure about that?”
Lucia’s eyes widened. Someone whistled. “Victor, you got a permit for that thing?”
The battle-ready monster hovering above her head finally cracked Lucia’s bravado. “Oh god, Victor. I don’t think I can get—.”
A sharp tap of Victor’s cock against Lucia’s mouth shushed her. “You can make this easy or hard, Lucia. Who’s the best team?”
For ten seconds, Lucia lay very still, breathing calmly and watching Victor lazily massage his cock. Through half-lidded eyes she contemplated the shiny beads of pre-cum oozing from its purple head. Lucia’s nipples hardened, and the corner of her mouth ticked up in a dirty smile.
“Maple Leafs,” she said.
Victor smiled like a frontier schoolmarm reaching for her wooden ruler. “I was hoping you’d say that,” he said as his hands clamped talon-like around Lucia’s face. Victor tilted her head back and inserted his cock between her lips. Although prepared with a generous mouthful of spit, Lucia gagged and stalled at the three quarters mark. Victor pumped to this depth a few times, paused to adjust Lucia’s head, then nudged forward. Controlling one’s gag reflex didn’t mean turning it off, and Victor’s cock, on breaching Lucia’s choke point, triggered a paroxysm of dry-retching that I thought would tear Lucia free of the ropes. Victor remained motionless until his prey quieted and, deprived of air, began to squirm.
Thick, viscous saliva gushed out of Lucia’s mouth and nose when Victor withdrew.
“You son-of-a-bitch,” Lucia gasped, the sticky mess hanging from her face like silvery stalactites.
“Best team?” Victor asked.
“Go to hell.”
Face fucking, skull fucking, throat ramming—the ropes snapped tight as Victor’s cock plumbed the back of Lucia’s throat, followed with leaking, clenched eyes and red-faced, straining concentration as its full measure disappeared into Lucia’s mouth. Between plunges she gulped for air like a drowning man. On and on it went. Victor’s inexorable assault wore Lucia down, but she refused to yield.
“You stupid bitch,” said Danielle. “Are the Maple Leafs really worth this?”
Lucia extended both middle fingers. Danielle had missed the point because this ordeal was about more than her beloved team. I was sure she loved the Maple Leafs, but Lucia exuded the masochistic flair of an adrenalin junkie, and got her fix not with crazy sports, but with sucking cocks. The game was an opportunity. The wager? Nothing more than a self-inflicted kick in the ass to propel herself off the cliff.
Even Victor got it. He edged Lucia cruelly, forcing her to dig deep to hang on but never out pacing her. His stern demeanor softened as he slowly ramped down, then pulled out to stroke his cock. “You’re a tough girl, Lucia. And the best.”
Lucia acknowledged the compliment with a weary, slobbery smile and puckered nipples. Like frosty spider webs, long threads of saliva swung like between her mouth and Victor’s cock.
“Gimme your load, hon,” she said. “In my mouth. I earned it.”
“Best team?” Victor asked.
“You bastard.” Lucia’s middle fingers went up again as Victor erupted, ejecting a stallion’s load of cum in streaming, ball-draining spurts. When he stepped back, Lucia looked like someone had upended a bucket of buttermilk over her head.
“Victor gets two cases of beer,” said Danielle. “Anyone want seconds?”
Keith jumped up. “The show’s over. Gentlemen, let’s hear it for Lucia.”
Lucia acknowledged the cheers, ear-splitting whistles, and applause with a smile and wiggling toes as I loosened the sweat-tempered knots. She smelled like wet raw sex. No trace of sandalwood remained under the layers of drying semen. Hands freed, she quickly skimmed Victor’s cum from her face into her mouth, then worked to unglue her eyelids, and after some effort, she could squint through cum-frosted lashes. She found more globs of cum on her belly and breasts, collected it on her fingers, and sucked them clean. Then Lucia stretched with feline grace and rolled off the table, a Mona Lisa smile on her lips.
Danielle offered Lucia a roll of paper towels. “You can clean up—.”
Lucia pounced, deftly throwing Danielle to the floor with a thud and sending the towels unrolling across the room. The surprise attack stunned everyone to silence. The flash combat ended with Lucia astride Danielle with a forearm a jammed cross her throat. Pinned, Danielle was now the doe in the spotlight, staring vacant-eyed at milky bubbles percolating from Lucia’s approaching lips. Lucia fisted a clump of Danielle’s hair as threads of cum spun downward. Panic twitched through Danielle, but pressure from Lucia’s forearm confined it to her eyes. Lucia paused for a deep, growling breath, mated their lips, and fed Victor’s semen to Danielle.
Lucia slapped a hand across Danielle’s mouth and pinched her nostrils. “Swallow.”
Danielle, her face sickly, whimpered and swallowed.
Lucia sprang to her feet and Danielle, stricken and holding her mouth, scurried away. Moments later violent puking noises filtered into the living room.
“That bitch can’t hold her cum,” said Nelson.
All eyes followed Lucia. Naked and crusted in semen, she wiped her mouth into a searing, iniquitous smile and aimed it at every man who’d shoved his cock down her throat.
“Maple. Leafs. Fucking. Rule. Get it?”