Saturday, December 09, 2006
The Gin Game, Part Two
Here is the conclusion of the story of one of the early spankings that Angela and I exchanged. I must apologize for the length of time between the two parts, but a combination of poor weather, ill health, and a cranky internet connection made getting this story finished and published quite a challenge indeed. I hope ot is worth the wait. If not, I'll have Angela spank me for you.
The hand I was dealt was a poor one, so I lost the hand and, thus, the game. It was now time for Angela to spank me. I draped myself over her lap and took my medicine. We decided to continue in this fashion, with the loser getting the hairbrush on their bare bottom. It seemed like a quite pleasant way to spend an evening.
In the next game, the cards I was getting seemed to be pretty difficult to work with, and yet I was getting satisfactory results, which I, naturally, attributed to my Gin-playing talent. I won the game which, gave me the opportunity to paddle my love’s backside. Rather than being disappointed, Angela seemed rather pleased at this result. I assumed this was because of her natural spanking tendencies.
Not wanting to spoil the fun by pushing past Angela’s limits, I “carefully” paddled Angela’s bare butt as she laid over my lap. I say “carefully,” because, after all, she the hairbrush was her idea, and she did lose, so I made sure that the spanking was nicely painful, yet I carefully monitored Angela’s reactions to make sure that the evening had not moved beyond fun. I settled for about a dozed-and-a-half swats, which left her buns nicely red and warm. When Angela got up, she hopped around sweetly and vigorously rubbed her butt, but she was smiling.
Now let us jump ahead to later in the evening. The competition was fierce, and the luck swayed Angela’s way as she prevailed in the next two games. I took my punishment with a proper amount of humility, but of course I enjoyed each and every swat. I didn’t wish to seem like I was a, I suppose the term is, pain slut, but I desiring to continue playing so that we could continue spanking.
With the game count at three apiece, and the hour growing late, we decided that the next game would be the rubber match. I suggested that we play the game in the “Hollywood” style, which involves three “streets” of scores. The first hand won by a player scores in the first street, the second scores in streets one and two, and the third win scoring in all three streets. To win a street, one gets to the set amount of points in the street. Whomever wins at least two streets wins the game.
To make the game more interesting, we decided that we would place stakes on all three streets. The loser of a street received 25 swats with the hairbrush. The winner of the game would be allowed to deliver an additional 25 swats. So there were 100 whacks on the line. We also decided to hand out all spankings after the entire game had ended.
Again, the battle was ferocious. Hands were well fought, and each street was extremely close. Angela won the first street, but I put together a serious of brilliant plays and won out in second street. By coincidence, we both had the same score on third street, so we were again totally and completely tied. I decided that it was my turn to up the stakes.
“What do you say that we put an extra twenty-five swats on the outcome of this street?” I asked. “That way, whoever wins will get an even hundred.” Angela quickly agreed, perhaps a little two quickly. Right there I should have known that something was up.
I won the next hand, but only added a small amount to my point total. Still, I felt that I was in a good position to put Angela in a good position, if you catch my proverbial drift. So I was quite startled when Angela said, “Wanna put another 50 whacks on the outcome?”
“Sure,” I replied, and then added, flippantly, “and the loser gets to be the winner’s slave for the rest of the night.”
And so it was decided. A serious spanking for the loser, followed by submission to the winner for the remainder of the evening. I began to imagine how much fun I was going to have.
Oh, but if dreams could truly become reality.
By now, you’ve surely deduced the actual outcome. I would not be giving Angela a spanking. I would not be giving her orders. I would not be celebrating my gin-playing superiority.
To put it mildly, she kicked my ass.
I did not win a hand the rest of the way. It wasn’t even close. I barely had a chance to play any cards. If I would have forfeited, I probably could have saved some shred of dignity. Instead, I was quickly and completely finished off. At the end, I just sat there in a stunned state. I, the Gin master, had lost to a mere novice, a raw rookie. I felt so embarrassed, no pun intended.
Upon winning the final hand, Angela gave me an evil grin. I could tell that she had some nasty plans for me. I began to think that this wagering business was a rather poor idea, let alone the frequent raising of the stakes. I also started to smell a rat.
Angela took me over her lovely lap and delivered the first fifty swats with little mercy. She went slowly so as not to tax me too much, although in my opinion she really did this to draw my punishment out as long as possible. I behaved myself as much as possible and took the spanking with little protest, but I must admit she did a thorough job and I could not remain completely quiet or completely still.
When she stopped, she let me get up and inspect the damage. I put my hands back and felt the fire on my butt. When I glanced back at my nates, they were as red as I’d ever seen them. Even though I rubbed them, I could not get the sting to go completely away. Indeed, I was impressed with Angela’s spanking technique.
For the next phase, Angela decided that I should get completely naked and lay down on the table. I did so with a combination of excitement and trepidation. My butt was into long-spanking-mode, but this position with an implement was something new to us and I was concerned that it would substantially turn up the heat.
As I placed my bare ass on the table, pointing to the ceiling, the odor of rodent continued to be somewhat prevalent. So I asked Angela, “How did you manage to beat me so easily at the end when the game was on the line?”
“Easy,” she replied. “You always threw away face cards, always saved aces and deuces, always played runs rather than trips, and never knocked unless you figured you couldn’t get gin.”
Of course. Seeing as she was a player of little experience, I played a little too aggressively. Except, how did she know to look for those things if she didn’t play the game? I posed this question to my love.
To put it succinctly, I had been had. As it turned out, Angela was, in truth, not a novice to the game of gin. In fact, she was quite experienced. She, too, had a grandparent who taught her the game, and had taught her well. She had even participated in a number of tournaments with considerable success.
Had Angela cheated? Had she subject me to unfair deception? Was the spanking that I was in the midst of unjustly earned?
The answers to those questions are much too philosophical to be adequately dealt with in a story of this nature. Suffice to say, for being deceived so easily, I honestly felt that I deserved every whack. Besides, I am a spanko. Any excuse for a spanking is fine with me. In addition, since I now knew that she was more of a gin expert rather than a gin beginner, my ego had been rescued from the commode.
Nonetheless, I had lost the bet, and so I took the remainder of my spanking with stoicism. I also proceeded to perform every task that she requested with my complaint at all. Since I was naked and she was headed that way, her demands were things that I had intended to satisfy anyway. And, to be fair, she let me spank her for being so sneaky.
What did I learn from the experience? For one thing, never make a bet with my darling Angela, unless, of course, I had my own deception planned. We also learned that we both could take more of a spanking than we had exchanged previously. Finally, we learned that losing a card game or a bet to each other could not affect the depth of our relationship. That evening, we discovered two things. The first was that we truly were in love with spanking. The second was that we were truly in love with other.
It was a fantastic discovery.
The hand I was dealt was a poor one, so I lost the hand and, thus, the game. It was now time for Angela to spank me. I draped myself over her lap and took my medicine. We decided to continue in this fashion, with the loser getting the hairbrush on their bare bottom. It seemed like a quite pleasant way to spend an evening.
In the next game, the cards I was getting seemed to be pretty difficult to work with, and yet I was getting satisfactory results, which I, naturally, attributed to my Gin-playing talent. I won the game which, gave me the opportunity to paddle my love’s backside. Rather than being disappointed, Angela seemed rather pleased at this result. I assumed this was because of her natural spanking tendencies.
Not wanting to spoil the fun by pushing past Angela’s limits, I “carefully” paddled Angela’s bare butt as she laid over my lap. I say “carefully,” because, after all, she the hairbrush was her idea, and she did lose, so I made sure that the spanking was nicely painful, yet I carefully monitored Angela’s reactions to make sure that the evening had not moved beyond fun. I settled for about a dozed-and-a-half swats, which left her buns nicely red and warm. When Angela got up, she hopped around sweetly and vigorously rubbed her butt, but she was smiling.
Now let us jump ahead to later in the evening. The competition was fierce, and the luck swayed Angela’s way as she prevailed in the next two games. I took my punishment with a proper amount of humility, but of course I enjoyed each and every swat. I didn’t wish to seem like I was a, I suppose the term is, pain slut, but I desiring to continue playing so that we could continue spanking.
With the game count at three apiece, and the hour growing late, we decided that the next game would be the rubber match. I suggested that we play the game in the “Hollywood” style, which involves three “streets” of scores. The first hand won by a player scores in the first street, the second scores in streets one and two, and the third win scoring in all three streets. To win a street, one gets to the set amount of points in the street. Whomever wins at least two streets wins the game.
To make the game more interesting, we decided that we would place stakes on all three streets. The loser of a street received 25 swats with the hairbrush. The winner of the game would be allowed to deliver an additional 25 swats. So there were 100 whacks on the line. We also decided to hand out all spankings after the entire game had ended.
Again, the battle was ferocious. Hands were well fought, and each street was extremely close. Angela won the first street, but I put together a serious of brilliant plays and won out in second street. By coincidence, we both had the same score on third street, so we were again totally and completely tied. I decided that it was my turn to up the stakes.
“What do you say that we put an extra twenty-five swats on the outcome of this street?” I asked. “That way, whoever wins will get an even hundred.” Angela quickly agreed, perhaps a little two quickly. Right there I should have known that something was up.
I won the next hand, but only added a small amount to my point total. Still, I felt that I was in a good position to put Angela in a good position, if you catch my proverbial drift. So I was quite startled when Angela said, “Wanna put another 50 whacks on the outcome?”
“Sure,” I replied, and then added, flippantly, “and the loser gets to be the winner’s slave for the rest of the night.”
And so it was decided. A serious spanking for the loser, followed by submission to the winner for the remainder of the evening. I began to imagine how much fun I was going to have.
Oh, but if dreams could truly become reality.
By now, you’ve surely deduced the actual outcome. I would not be giving Angela a spanking. I would not be giving her orders. I would not be celebrating my gin-playing superiority.
To put it mildly, she kicked my ass.
I did not win a hand the rest of the way. It wasn’t even close. I barely had a chance to play any cards. If I would have forfeited, I probably could have saved some shred of dignity. Instead, I was quickly and completely finished off. At the end, I just sat there in a stunned state. I, the Gin master, had lost to a mere novice, a raw rookie. I felt so embarrassed, no pun intended.
Upon winning the final hand, Angela gave me an evil grin. I could tell that she had some nasty plans for me. I began to think that this wagering business was a rather poor idea, let alone the frequent raising of the stakes. I also started to smell a rat.
Angela took me over her lovely lap and delivered the first fifty swats with little mercy. She went slowly so as not to tax me too much, although in my opinion she really did this to draw my punishment out as long as possible. I behaved myself as much as possible and took the spanking with little protest, but I must admit she did a thorough job and I could not remain completely quiet or completely still.
When she stopped, she let me get up and inspect the damage. I put my hands back and felt the fire on my butt. When I glanced back at my nates, they were as red as I’d ever seen them. Even though I rubbed them, I could not get the sting to go completely away. Indeed, I was impressed with Angela’s spanking technique.
For the next phase, Angela decided that I should get completely naked and lay down on the table. I did so with a combination of excitement and trepidation. My butt was into long-spanking-mode, but this position with an implement was something new to us and I was concerned that it would substantially turn up the heat.
As I placed my bare ass on the table, pointing to the ceiling, the odor of rodent continued to be somewhat prevalent. So I asked Angela, “How did you manage to beat me so easily at the end when the game was on the line?”
“Easy,” she replied. “You always threw away face cards, always saved aces and deuces, always played runs rather than trips, and never knocked unless you figured you couldn’t get gin.”
Of course. Seeing as she was a player of little experience, I played a little too aggressively. Except, how did she know to look for those things if she didn’t play the game? I posed this question to my love.
To put it succinctly, I had been had. As it turned out, Angela was, in truth, not a novice to the game of gin. In fact, she was quite experienced. She, too, had a grandparent who taught her the game, and had taught her well. She had even participated in a number of tournaments with considerable success.
Had Angela cheated? Had she subject me to unfair deception? Was the spanking that I was in the midst of unjustly earned?
The answers to those questions are much too philosophical to be adequately dealt with in a story of this nature. Suffice to say, for being deceived so easily, I honestly felt that I deserved every whack. Besides, I am a spanko. Any excuse for a spanking is fine with me. In addition, since I now knew that she was more of a gin expert rather than a gin beginner, my ego had been rescued from the commode.
Nonetheless, I had lost the bet, and so I took the remainder of my spanking with stoicism. I also proceeded to perform every task that she requested with my complaint at all. Since I was naked and she was headed that way, her demands were things that I had intended to satisfy anyway. And, to be fair, she let me spank her for being so sneaky.
What did I learn from the experience? For one thing, never make a bet with my darling Angela, unless, of course, I had my own deception planned. We also learned that we both could take more of a spanking than we had exchanged previously. Finally, we learned that losing a card game or a bet to each other could not affect the depth of our relationship. That evening, we discovered two things. The first was that we truly were in love with spanking. The second was that we were truly in love with other.
It was a fantastic discovery.
