THE WAGER

By Sailor861

With Super Bowl XXXVIIII fast approaching, Sunday, Feb. 2, 2004, office talk and lotteries ramped to full speed in dawn bright's store in downtown Philadelphia. But "db," as she was known far and wide, couldn't care less.

She was not at all interested in pro sports and the prospect of watching 24 big, heavily-padded men chase up and down a big, long field, throwing each other to the ground and running for an ovoid pigskin ball, was silly, funny and overblown to her sensibilities. And she could care less who the New England Patriots and Carolina Panthers were; a bunch of big, overpaid athletes with more intelligence between their legs than inside their helmets, she thought.

In fact, that late-January Friday morning, she was more interested in the new guy in the store, Richard somebody, who had just turned up from North Carolina to manage a company project to install new computers in the busy store.

Tall, quiet, dark and weathered after having spent considerable time at sea, she was told, dawn, a sales supervisor, found him moderately attractive. He was at least six feet tall, she estimated, with a short military haircut, brown eyes and an easygoing manner with a somewhat-charming Carolinas drawl in a baritone voice. She was informed by Gail Penny, her best friend, Richard was living alone, in a one-bedroom apartment somewhere downtown, but drove a snazzy, cherry-red 2004 Mustang with North Carolina plates that had caught her eye when he arrived at the office last week.

Dawn, who had broken off with her boyfriend 16 months ago, was now single and quite available. Her sex life also had diminished to near zero since BillyBob Bottoms, her former 'significant other,' had left her for another 'bimbo' across town who, she was told, was planning to, or had already become, a bondage-movie starlet.

Years ago, dawn had only vaguely heard the word "bondage" and thought it was a term for that silly, exclusive domain of lurid, red-covered men's magazines and trashy internet sites run by low-life, moneygrubbing creeps with organized-crime connections who bound, teased and force-orgasmed women for fun and profit.

But little did she know SuperBowl Sunday night would be her first introduction to bondage at the hands of her new co-worker who just happened to be a hardened ex-seaman with long years of experience in linehandling, knots, bends and hitches -- and a penchant for seducing and betraying unsuspecting, ordinary women into bondage and indulging consensual rape fantasies.

At lunch break, dawn went into the ladies' room, spruced up her long, red hair, freshened her makeup, took off her bra that was digging into her, gave her prominent, pink nipples a little squeeze and went off to introduce herself to "the Canadian."

Wearing her all-black store uniform, she attracted a few glances from shoppers and sales staff as she strolled, breasts undulating nicely, across the sales floor.

"Hey Dawn, come on down here and help me with this aisle for a minute, Jolene called from one of rows of children's clothing.

"Later, Joey," dawn said, as she swayed toward the small office area where Richard worked.

She knocked on the first door on her right and strolled in, casually asking if there was anything she could do to help the newcomer, 'the Carolinian,' today.

Richard looked up at dawn and felt his erection growing just a little. 'W-wow,' he said to himself; 'where did this babe come from?' He had not yet been introduced to everyone and only vaguely recalled seeing dawn in the staff lounge one morning at lunch break.

"Oh, you're Dawn, aren't you? One of the sales reps?" he asked, standing up to shake her hand. "I'm Richard, come in, come in; sit down."

Dawn sat on the big, heavy wood chair in front of his cluttered desk, crossed her knees, showing a little more thigh than usual, and said: "Richard, I know you're new in town and are probably alone this SuperBowl weekend; I am, too, and I, um, I've got a nice color TV at home and was wondering if you'd care to come over Sunday afternoon and watch the game? That's if you're not doing anything else. My roomate is gone for the weekend and . . . ."

She gave him her warmest 'come-hither' smile and took her glasses off, turning him a little blurry.

Richard, an energetic, 58-year-old divorcee, was tired of sitting alone most weekends in his little, one-bedroom apartment in downtown Philadelphia and could not believe his good fortune. This well-dressed, good-looking gal and the only sales person who wore a skirt to report to work, had just asked him to her place this weekend.

"Well, thank you very much; I appreciate the invitation," he said, engaging her soft brown eyes and looking at her shapely figure. You're very kind."

Dawn gave a small smile and said: "About two?"

"I'll be there; thanks Ms. smith."

"That's Dawn."

"Then I'll be there at 1:55.

"See you then, Richard."

Dawn stood and walked out of the little office, blissfully unaware of the taut bondage and attentions that would fulfil her long-held "Fay Wray fantasy," she hoped, lay about 30 hours away.

LATER THAT DAY

Dawn, never a gambling woman, would later that day enter into a bet with her new acquaintance that if her team, the Carolina Panthers, won by a three-point margin, she would get to borrow Richard's car for seven days, along with two fillups. Richard, on the other hand, said if he accepted her wager and his team, the Patriots, won by three points, that dawn would have to give him one special wish: a combination of strict rope bondage and to turn her body over to his attentions for at least six hours.

Dawn, incredulous at Richard's request, was too dumbfounded to ask him to explain himself and chose instead to cheer on the Panthers, hoping she would win.

History would show she would lose -- final score 32-29, Patriots over the Panthers -- on a last-second field goal that had fans, commentators and housewives alike groaning and cheering coast-to-coast, Sunday, Feb. 1, 2005.

At exactly 1:55 p.m., Feb. 1, SuperBowl Sunday, Dawn's doorbell rang and Dawn, wearing tight Calvin Klein designer jeans and a snug "I Love Panthers" t-shirt, scampered to answer the door of her tidy, two-bedroom duplex midway between downtown Philly and the suburbs.

"Hi, Dawn; harya?" Richard said, holding a six-pack of beer, a big bag of popcorn and a small object she did not pay any attention to. He was wearing a Patriots t-shirt under his bomber jacket that showed off his slim, muscular physique. Dawn, glancing at her new houseguest, thought her weekend could be worthwhile after all.

"Come in, Richard," dawn said, giving him a cozy, but slightly cool, smile. She hadn't realized just how big and tall he actually was, as he towered over her 5-3 frame by almost nine inches, his jeans and trim blue t-shirt under his bomber jacket showing off a physique that belied his years.

The game was just starting and Richard and dawn sat slightly apart on her big bed, facing the 19-inch color TV. Little did Richard know that just a few feet away, in Dawn's bedroom, lay a wealth of bondage gear, vibrators, dildoes, love balls – even a pyrex butt plug – that belied Dawn's demure, outward appearances.

Dawn feigned interest in the big game, as the rivals' fortunes waxed and waned over the first two quarters but was quietly relieved when halftime came. The Patriots were ahead 14-10 but the Panthers were snarling back, the announcers informed.

'Ho-hum,' dawn thought, as she got up to stretch her legs. She did not see Richard's small, zipped-closed flight bag of hemprope, a big red ballgag and other bondage items beside him on the floor by the bed.

The second half dragged for Dawn, the cheers, excited announcers' voices and big, panoramic shots of the huge SuperDome not interesting her in the least.

As the exciting 4 ^th quarter wound down, Richard took Dawn's right as the final seconds wound down. Then . . . .

 "Yippee, I win!" Richard said happily, as the New England kicker's 47-yard field goal sailed through the Panthers' uprights, putting the Patriots ahead by exactly three points as the big digital clock at the SuperDome flashed OO:OO to pandemonium and rapturous TV announcers' voices across America.

Dawn gulped and said: "Well, Richard, what is it that you would like to do with me?" she said, idly hoping he may have forgotten. He didn't.

Richard sat quietly for a few seconds, turned to her and said in a clear voice: "Stand, Dawn, and turn your back to me; do not look around."

Dawn did not see the boxcutter in his left hand as she got up nervously, wondering just what he had in mind.

She stood there for several seconds as Richard told her to stand perfectly still, close her eyes and hold her breath.

Dawn thought this was just a practical joke until she felt the cool blade of the sharp boxcutter at the back of her snug T-shirt; then, in one quick slash downward, her t-shirt was sliced in two and Richard gently slipped it off her shoulders, baring her back to him.

"Ah, good," he said.

Dawn's hands flew to her bare breasts and she flushed deeply as Richard pulled her arms down by her sides, turning her around roughly.

"Wha . . . ? What? Wait!! Richard, what are you going to do now?" Dawn asked nervously. "I . . . Yeoww!"

"Quiet!," Richard said firmly, holding her left nipple hard with his right hand as his left quickly sliced her jeans down the outside seam, then, just as easily, slashing them into large pieces at the waistband and crotch.

In five seconds, with Richard still gripping her left nipple, Dawn's clothes lay at her feet and she was frightened, awed, awkward and turned on – all at the same time.

"You better pay for those Calvin Klein jeans, buster," she said angrily, pressing her luck against this determined man as he let go his vice-grip-like hold on her breast. "Ouch; not so darn hard."

'Nice body, Ms. bright; very nice," Richard said, as he tossed the sharp, yellow-handled razor knife into his flight bag. "Forget the jeans for now. And your top."

Dawn did not know whether to stand or run, so shocked was she at this incredible turn of events that shocked her and sent an electrical current of sexuality coursing through her loins and her newly-shaven pussy.

Richard them firmly grabbed her, twisted her arms behind her back and expertly, and very tightly, bound her forearms to the small of her back in a complex, Japanese-cradle rope harness using soft, 1/8 ^th -inch hempcord.

Dawn winced as he wrapped doubled loops around her arms, pulling each pass far tighter than it should be.

Richard smiled grimly as he secured her elbows then passed eight bights above and below her breasts, confining her 40C breasts in cord in a way that combined Dawn's pleasure with equal amounts of pain.

Dawn had only been tied up once before in her life, by her roomate when she was an 18-year-old sophomore, but had stashed the prank in her vaguely-fond sexual-encounter memories of 25 years ago.

"Sit here," he ordered.

Dawn sat and noticed the large, growing bulge in Richard's tight bluejeans, reminding her of the prow of a sailing vessel she saw on the internet not long ago.

"Tell me how that feels."

Dawn was at a loss for words; it had been several years since she felt ropes on her body and old memories began trickling back. She recalled the shock, embarrassment and comedy of the amateurish tieup in the dormitory, after she had lost a dare to her cute roommate, but she had never been bound as thoroughly this way. Her normally orderly mind was confused at the swath of emotions she felt.

"I . . . I, um, I don't know, Richard; why do you want to tie me up, anyway? Why can't we just, ah, make hamburgers for supper, or something? Would you like to play scrabble, maybe, instead. Or something?"

 "Something!" Richard said cryptically, as he pushed her naked, bound body back onto the couch roughly and, still dressed, slipped his hard cock out, mounted her, and rammed his engine of love full force deep inside Dawn's open, pink sex.

Dawn gasped at the shock and sudden jolt of pain as Richard's thick, long penis moved her insides, so powerfully was he slamming himself into her.

" Mrrrarrrr ," Dawn groaned, realizing this is the first time she had ever been 'date-raped'. " Agghhh, oh." A small smile traced across her lips, unseen by Richard.

"Quiet," Richard hissed in her ear. "Ssssshhhh. Not a word."

Dawn closed her mouth, breathing through her nose not noticing Richard had reached down and gabbed the big, red ballgag from his little kit of bondage gear he had brought along specially for her.

"What is that ?" she gasped, looking at the red ball and back at her assailant, never having seen a gag before, Richard's thick cock, still deep inside her, suddenly an afterthought..

"Open, Dawn," he said. "Wide."

" Mmm-nnn ," she said, shaking her head, pursing her lips into a flat crease.

Richard pounded her throbbing pussy 16 times, hard, fast and deep, bringing a sweat to Dawn's brow and a pant to her lips as he held her arms over her head on her bed, her legs spread wide for comfort. Her eyes open wide in shock and amazement, she gasped for air; then, gritting her teeth, reluctantly opened her mouth and Richard promptly slipped the two-inch-diameter red sphere hard behind her straight, white teeth.

Dawn, still helpless and bound with a strong, 185-pound man fully on top of her, his cock sitting deep inside her, lay there quietly waiting, too stunned, too shocked and too turned on to move, as Richard placed the ballgag straps around her cheeks and buckled them far too tightly behind her neck.

" Mmmmmhhhfff ," dawn groaned, trying to breathe through her nose. She tried to remember if Fay Wray had been gagged as she stood, spreadeagled, on a jungle fortification, as bait for the huge ape in the 1934 classic King Kong.

Richard held her wrists beside her face and pounded into her again and again, making dawn gasp and wince in pain, a lack of air to her lungs and a decidedly warm feeling in her loins. Her eyes nearly popped from their sockets as Richard slammed into her, again and again.

Twenty-five minutes later, Richard's lean, muscular body stiffened as he plunged his hard cock into Dawn's deepest recesses -- she had never before been penetrated as deeply by anyone or anything as she was at that moment, she would recall, months later -- and ejaculated a large load of hot, white semen into her.

Dawn, her lips taut and thin around the big red gag, groaned and moaned loudly in an orgasm she had not expected, feeling her insides shift upwards with his force, but Richard was not through. She had half-expected Richard to tell her to ask permission to cum. But he did not. That would happen later, much later.

But at this moment, she had wrapped her ankles behind Richard's thighs and was even unaware she had done so as she lay there, her arms bound hard behind her back, Japanese style.

Both lay there, panting, sweating, the afterglow still hours away, and dawn suddenly wanted more. And more.

Richard rose quickly, his big cock withdrawing from Dawn's bare, tender sex with a wet 'plop,' and told her to stand and get the rest of the small-diameter hemprope out of his flightbag.

Awkwardly, her arms still tightly bound, the naked and ball-gagged dawn slid off the bed, feeling his semen ooze out of her and, stooping backwards, withdrew four 15-foot lengths of the soft, light-brown cord.

"Ever been frogtied?" Richard asked.

Dawn had never before been bound as she was, let alone frogtied, and she looked down at the carpet and her slashed clothing. She said nothing, looking down as she thought she should.

"Kneel, please, babe," Richard said, his tone softening perceptibly.

 Dawn, her sweat now cooling slightly on her tousled brow, was now realizing she was not about to be killed or mutilated as she knelt in front of him, head down, wondering what would happen next.

"Put your head against my knee and keep it there until I tell you to move."

Dawn complied and she felt a strange sense of complacency, a vague comfort, ease over her. Her submissive side was definitely coming to the fore at the hands of her very capable lover.

'He wants to make believe we are some sort of couple,' she thought suddenly. Richard then knelt beside her and bound her ankles to the backs of her thighs with 12 wraps of cord.

Dawn would have to kneel there until Richard either picked her up or untied her. Richard sat and looked at dawn and the post-game show burbling away like a Monday morning coffee pot on her little TV.

"Turn the TV back off and come here, Dawn," Richard ordered. "Please?"

" Hmmmpffff ?" Dawn asked, her voice muffled by the big red ballgag.

"Hop."

Dawn hopped, flopped and rolled over to the TV on the dresser, turned her back to it, groped around until she felt the on-off button and turned to face her male friend, her bedroom as silent as it was when she awoke five hours ago.

"Back here."

Dawn then wriggled and bounced back to the bed and Richard pulled her up onto the pillows beside him, sliding four fingers into her moist slit as dawn tried to shake her long red hair out of her eyes.

In the quiet of the late afternoon, Richard began his own post-game show: massaging Dawn's sex, masturbating her in the way she favored most – two fingers rhythmically stroking her clit and three fingers of the other hand inside her, exploring her G-spot, making soft, wet sounds. Dawn began to pant toward her second orgasm, still tightly bound, frogtied and gagged in his lap. Still fully aroused, dawn was miles away from that golden sunset of sexual afterglow she longed for.

For her, sex was great but the post-coital buzz was even better. She loved to be manipulated sexually while bound and gagged but none of her two previous lovers had ever satisfied her the way Richard was doing right now. She began to wonder if Richard would have been an equally adept lover on line.

An hour later, about 5:30 p.m., darkness fell outside and dawn was still bound on her bed while Richard slipped out from underneath her bound form, went naked into the kitchen to make them something to eat, humming tunelessly as he did so.

Dawn, still unable to twitch or utter a single word, looked over and saw him emerge moments later, carrying a tray of thick cold-chicken sandwiches, sweet pickles and two cans of ice-cold Pabst Dawn had prepared many hours before for them.

Setting the tray down on the coffee table near Dawn, he undid her ballgag, leaving it in a loose loop around her neck, but did not untie her from her harsh, very tight bondage.

"Beer?"

Dawn looked at him coolly, glancing at the cold white-and-blue can in his hand.

"You bastard," she spat, her eyes ice cold. "I invite you to my house, you win the game-point bet and take advantage of me. You raped me!! Is that your Carolinian way of thanking me, a Philadelphia lady, for her hospitality?"

Dawn was almost angry but still very helpless.

Richard, suddenly sick with remorse, put down her beer and stammered for words.

"Well?" Dawn said, tugging at her arms. "Are you going to untie me, you big prick?"

Richard was unsure what to do: never before did he have a bound, furious, attractive woman on his hands; if he untied her she would probably call the police; if he left her bound the way she was, she would probably flip out or, worse, cry. But Dawn was far from tears of regret.

What do to, what to do? Richard thought.

"Dawn, if I untie you, will you promise not to go to the police?" Dawn had not intended any such thing; it's just that her ropes were on too tightly for her – five hours in her too-tight Japanese arm cradle and very tight frogtie were making her hands, wrists, forearms, ankles and thighs tingle with nerve and blood vessel compression.

She tugged this way and that and still could not move a muscle, so thoroughly and effectively had this man bound her.

"Well, maybe you don't have to untie me completely," she said, relaxing just a bit; "maybe just undo my legs and loosen my arms a little, will you, please, mmm? Master?" she cooed, a strange calm suddenly overtaking her . . . .

Ah, woman, Richard sighed to himself; tacitly entitled, by her gender only, to change her mind. "It was ever thus," he told her obliquely, cryptically, as he began to loosen her bonds at her request. Dawn looked at him, puzzled, calm, amused. She had never before used the word Master in his presence and she found a certain release, and submissive pleasure, in her spontaneous use of the word.

He took her into his arms, gently, strongly, and dawn eased her bound body against his, her warm, golden afterglow flowing over her finally, silkily.

She was still feeling his strong, rugged arms still on her bound arms at midnight when Dawn slumbered off to sleep, her arms still tied loosely at the small of her back where they were placed almost 10 hours ago. It had been a long, rewarding day at the SuperDome and the Smith bungalow; New England Patriots, 32; Carolina Panthers, 29; Dawn , 1; Richard, 0.

Richard unbuckled her ballgag from around her neck, cut the cords gently away from her arms, torso, thighs and ankles kissed her gently on the lips and left her, fast asleep under a blanket on her bed, as he slipped away at 4 a.m. Monday.

Four hours later, the keys to Richard's Mustang lay at Dawn's workstation desk and she looked at the white envelope, her still red-marked wrists showing from under her company jacket. Feeling a vague tingle inside her well-used, very smooth sex, she looked at her name written on it in a strong, upright masculine style.

Inside, the note began:

Dear Dawn:

My car is yours to keep, the paperwork will follow; I have a second up in Nova Scotia and I have gone to get it. Thank you for your hospitality and for sharing yourself ao completely with me yesterday.

"I apologise for any, and all, pain I may have caused you and I assure you it will never happen again. Please forgive me.

Richard

Dawn smiled wryly as she put the little note in her purse. She wondered who had seduced whom yesterday? Who had exacted the ultimate control over the other? She had just received a brand-new car for allowing Richard to fulfil one of her longstanding fantasies.

Dawn, 1; Richard, 0.

"I forgive you, Richard; but I just may have a little surprise for you ," dawn said to herself, looking at the new February snowfall at the side of the store in downtown Philadelphia.

Richard would be back Wednesday and dawn would indeed surprise him as he had never been surprised before.

She had half an hour at lunch break to dash out and buy that pair of standard police- issue handcuffs she had seen in the BDSM shop down the street last week.

She wondered if one size fits all as she picked up the Monday morning work schedule from the office.

"What time is that Canadian fella due back in the office Wednesday?" she asked her supervisor, Doris Delahunt.

"Dunno, Dawn; wait and see."