Liar's Poker is a bluffing game. If you know how to play, I don't have to tell you how. If you don't, I'm sure you probably know somebody who does know, and they can teach you. Briefly, it involves the serial numbers on U.S. paper bills. They become poker hands and the players try to bluff each other. Usually the winner takes all the bills as a prize. In this story, the prize is of a little different currency.
It was a great day for a barbecue. Annie had spent the morning mixing the marinade, chopping salad ingredients and making burger patties. Hank had gone to the store for supplies and parked in front of the TV to watch the game. Annie didn't mind -- really. He worked hard all week and needed to relax on Saturday. Besides, he was going to be doing the grilling.
She had a job, too, but being a paralegal wasn't as heavy with responsibility as being a construction foreman. She'd been raised to respect and honor her husband, so she did, without question. Whenever she got any inkling of a thought that she was doing as much to hold up her end of the relationship, she quashed it. She loved Hank, and she knew that, in his way, he loved her, too. It was just...well, she didn't know what it was. Something had happened over the years to turn them into people she didn't even like.
Bill and his wife, Stella, as well as two other couples, were due to arrive around 3PM. Hank had invited Bill and his wife -- Bill had just started work at the construction company. Hank had told Annie not to invite anybody over before the game was over. Now she looked around the kitchen. Everything seemed to be ready. She had time for a shower and a little break. She walked through the living room on her way to the shower. As she passed the couch, Hank reached out and grabbed her wrist. "Hey, Baby! This looks like a runaway game. How about a blowjob before the vultures get here?"
"Hank, I need a shower. I was just on the way..." She tried to free herself from his tight grip, but he had her trapped. "Nah! I don't care how you smell. Besides, I won't be smelling you if your head is between my legs." He turned her around and pulled down, forcing her to her knees in front of him. With his free hand he unzipped his fly and pulled out his hardening dick. Releasing her wrist, he put his hand on the back of her neck and began to pull her to his crotch. She could see his cock, angry red now and throbbing as she got closer. With a sigh, she gave up the struggle and took him into her mouth. His rank odor rose to her nostrils, but she was used to it, had even come to enjoy it sometimes, when she felt horny. Hank showered, but only every two or three days. Today hadn't been one of those days.
Hank looked at Annie's blonde hair as her head bobbed up and down between his thighs. He swigged his beer and began to feel his orgasm approaching. He dropped the empty can to the floor and sat up, moving closer to the edge of the cushion. His feet were behind his wife's ass, not allowing her to back up. His movement forced another inch into her mouth and he felt his balls tighten just as he began to spew his semen into her mouth. He ignored her gagging and just pumped, continuing to fuck her face. As the spasms passed and he began to soften, she let his cock slip out of her mouth. He released her by moving his feet apart. She sat back and rose, wiping her lips with the back of her hand.
"Thanks, Hon. Hey, before you go wash your dirty ass, why don't you grab me another beer, Babe?" Hank's voice conveyed the pride he felt in his manly prowess. He tucked his soft little dick back into his pants and zipped up. Annie wordlessly moved back into the kitchen and returned with another beer for her husband. No other word was spoken and she went down the hall to shower. Under the hot spray she ignored the tears that mixed with the water. Not only ignored them, but denied them.
By 3:30, all the guests had arrived. The men congregated at the picnic table by the barbecue, a cooler full of ice and beer nearby. They were all disappointed in the afternoon's game. The women were in the kitchen and the adjoining dining room. The aroma of grilled meat drifted through the screens as they chatted about children, clothes and assorted subjects. When the other three women began to talk sex and men, Annie found she didn't want to participate, so she just listened. She had come to grips with her life long ago. Hank liked sex and didn't complain. Annie sometimes thought she might be missing out somehow, when she heard the other women talking about parts of their sex lives. But she was taught not to question this aspect of things either. Hank would lift up her nightie about once a week and stick himself inside her. He usually pumped for a couple of minutes and then squirted. Afterward, he'd kiss her cheek and roll off her, going quickly to sleep.
Annie and Hank had been married for twelve years and had no children. Annie had been glad to learn that Stella was also childless. Cindy and Melanie, the other two women, had two and three kids, respectively. When Cindy looked at Melanie and began a story about what her little girl had done that week, Stella rose from the table and moved next to Annie at the counter to fix herself another drink. She noticed Annie's glass and splashed two fingers of vodka into it, as well. She topped both drinks off with grapefruit juice. She handed Annie her glass and picked up her own. Laying her arm across Annie's shoulders, she propelled her out of the kitchen and into the family room. "Stella, I just had a drink, and I still have work to do in the kitchen," Annie protested. They sat on the couch next to the ping-pong table.
"No. You don't. If there's anything else to be done, just ask one of the breeders to do it. they're used to feeding crowds." Stella was childless by choice. That had been the only way she would marry Bill, she'd told Annie. Annie, on the other hand had wanted children. The doctor said she could, but blamed her barrenness on Hank. Hank, of course, snorted at that. He refused to go get tested.
"Honey," Stella looked at Annie and got right to it. "What's wrong? If you don't mind me saying so, you look kinda down."
"It's nothing, Stella," she shook her head. "I'm just kinda run down." Just then, Hank's voice hurled from the back yard, demanding that Annie bring him a new pack of smokes. She quickly rose and obediently went to the kitchen, opened a pack and took it out to her husband. When she returned to the couch, Stella was looking at her oddly.
"Why do you put up with that shit?" her new friend asked, shaking her head. "Stella, we've just met, so I don't think you should say things like that," Annie defended herself bravely. "No, Annie. Maybe not, but I can tell a bad situation when I see it. He doesn't respect you at all. Have you ever told him to get his own damned cigarettes? Or beer? This is a new century, for God's sake!" Annie's eyes widened at that and she reddened. Somewhere deep down she knew what Stella was saying was true, but she didn't know any other way. She merely shook her head. Stella leaned over and ran her fingers through Annie's tangled hair. She came to a decision.
"Want me to show you how to break him?" she asked. Annie looked at the woman with a little frown. She saw a twinkle in Stella's eyes and a small smile on her lips. Stella nodded. Something about her spoke to something in Annie. Annie took a big swallow of her new drink. She felt the burn of the liquor in her mouth and throat. She set the glass down on the coffee table. "Tell me," she said to the brunette. Stella's smile broadened and she patted Annie's hand. She lifted Annie's drink, handing it to her. Raising her own glass, she clinked it to Annie's and said, "Here's to new beginnings!" Annie watched as Stella downed the strong drink in one gulp. Annie followed suit, nearly choking herself. She didn't drink much and the vodka seemed to go straight to her head. Her eyes watering she just looked at Stella's smile. She smiled back, her eyes watering from the vodka.
The eight people sat around the picnic table eating their summer backyard dinner. Conversation spun and swirled in and out of the group. Annie kept an eye on Stella, who was keeping an eye on Hank. Hank was keeping an eye on his beer. He was fairly drunk and becoming louder as he drank more. When he ordered Annie to get him another beer from the cooler -- he was sitting closer to it than his wife, but he was demonstrating -- she hesitated. Stella's earlier words came back to her. The others had fallen silent, embarrassed as they saw Annie begin to rise. Then they all froze when Stella's voice sounded loud in the warm summer air. "Hank! How about this? Are you a gambling man?"
Hank turned bleary eyes toward Stella, his brows lowering in puzzlement. "Wha...? What d'you mean?"
"Just this: You got a dollar?"
"Huh? You betcherass I gotta dollar," his voice was belligerent as he struggled to understand why he didn't have a fresh beer in his paw. "Whass that got to do wi...."
"Liar's poker." Stella said. "I'll play you a hand of Liar's poker to see who gets the drinks. If you win, I'll get them. If I win, you -- not Annie -- will get your own beer and my drink." Hank digested the idea, taking a couple of silent minutes. "Sure! Hey, Bill, you got a firecracker here!" He reached into the pocket of his jeans, searching for a dollar bill. Drawing out several crumpled bills, Hank pulled one out and straightened it and peered blearily at it. Stella waited patiently, her own dollar folded neatly in her hand.
"Okay. I got three tens," Hank declared, a sly look on his face. " Four sevens," Stella replied. This is the way the game goes, each player declaring his 'hand' until one player calls. Then the serial numbers are exposed and a winner named. Finally, after the count had gone up to five fours for Stella, Hank called. "Bullshit! You ain't got it!" Now, it didn't matter what Hank had or didn't have. Stella merely stretched her bill out and held it before Hank's face. There were, indeed, five fours in the string of eight digits between the two letters. "Shit!" he exclaimed and slouched the few feet to the cooler for his beer. His eyes widened at the sight of Stella holding up her empty glass. "Don't sit down yet, Cowboy. Vodka and grapefruit, please." Her shapely lips curved up in a bright smile, as if it really was 'just a friendly game'. But of the eight people around the table, possibly only Hank, Stella and Annie realized she had tweaked his manhood by beating him. Hank took her glass and stomped off to the kitchen.
When he returned, he set the glass down firmly enough to splash some of the pale liquid onto the table. It was plain he was angry. "Wanna go another round?" he asked Stella. She looked at him, suspicious. But she shrugged and fished in the pocket of her tight jeans for money.
"What are the stakes this time?" she asked innocently. "Well, if your hubby wasn't here I know what I'd bet," he leered at her. Stella snorted, amazed at the piggishness of the bastard. "How about this, then," she began. "The loser has to submit to a bare-ass paddling at the hands of the winner. Right here, right now." Six mouths gaped at her suggestion. Bill, however, hid his grin behind his hand, winking at Annie covertly to reassure her. He knew his wife. Hank frowned, his mouth working silently as he tried to understand what he'd just heard. Then he broke into loud guffaws, shaking his head. "Sure, sure. Honey, you better get ready. You can't beat me twice." It was clear he thought he'd snookered her. Hoping to gain a buck or two to salve his dented dignity, he would be more than happy to redden that shapely butt instead.
He reached into his pocket again. Instead of crumpled paper, however, he drew out a neatly folded dollar. Seeing the state of the bill, Stella, and even Annie, knew then that he had found what he considered a sure winner while he was in the house. Stella told him to start. "Three nines," he said, the ham of his hand cupped around the green paper.
"Four nines," she replied quietly. Hank pretended, with a drunk's seriousness, to contemplate before responding with, "Five sixes." It was Stella's turn to pretend surprise. Then she smiled broadly at the man and said simply, "Six aces."
"No fuckin' way!" Hank blurted. "Pardon my French," he said to the others. "But there ain't NO fuckin' way you got six aces. I call!" Stella showed her bill around before tossing it casually down in front of Hank. He grabbed it up and stared at it incredulously. There, flanked by a two and a pair of fours were indeed six figure ones. He ripped the bill in half and threw the scraps to the grass behind him. "So what! It was a bullshit bet, anyway."
"Not at all, Hank," Stella's left eyebrow rose archly. "It was a valid bet, unless you want to be a chicken?"
"You wouldn't have dropped your drawers if I'd a won!" he said. His face was reddening in anger and embarrassment. He had probably been picturing the scene in his mind: Stella's naked ass turned up for his paddling. But that wasn't the image in his mind now. He was unsure how to handle the situation. Then Stella spoke again. "Surely a big guy like you isn't afraid of a spanking from a woman? You outweigh me by at least seventy pounds."
"I ain't afraid, but...well, I mean..." His eyes were dancing around the group.. All of them were looking at him expectantly. Bill was even smirking. He'd be damned if he'd be known as a welsher! "Aw, shit! Okay gimme your little spankin'. No big deal." Stella rose and arranged one of the lounge chairs, folding it flat. She patted it and smiled at Hank. Everybody got up and grouped around the chair as Hank started to lay down on it. "Uh-uh." Stella said. "The bet was 'bare-ass'. Drop those pants...and the undies." He looked at her. She was standing, arms crossed. Suddenly he felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach, like he'd been set up. Still, he knew he had to go through with it. He unbuckled his belt and let his jeans drop. He stepped out of them and snagged the waistband of his briefs. The assembled crowd were largely successful in covering their amusement as his penis emerged. It was very short and stubby. Possibly it was from nervousness, but the men thought otherwise. Annie knew for sure that it wasn't nerves. He quickly lay down on his belly. "Let's get this over with," he said gruffly. "Just one more minute," Stella said, and she whispered something to Annie. Annie's eyes widened and she fairly raced into the house. She returned only a minute later and Hank saw her out of the corner of his eye handing something to Stella. "Come on!" Hank bellowed. "My ass is gettin' cold. Besides, one of these women might not be able to contain herself." he wasn't the only one to laugh, but he was the only one that laughed at his joke. To the others, he was the joke. Stella moved to the side of the lounger. Then she surprised everyone by straddling him, facing his feet. Her move immobilized him, pinning his arms to his sides. The initial CRACK! of the ping-pong paddle against his flabby, hairy backside was loud in the dusk. He jumped and yelped. He began to struggle, but Stella, though light, was also wiry and determined. Only Stella's husband knew how experienced his wife was at this.
As the blows rained down, Stella scolded Hank about the way he treated his wife, as well as his attitude toward other people in general, and toward women in particular. The lounger was an inexpensive one, constructed with nylon webbing. As such, there were openings in it between the straps. While Stella slapped at the now pink-drifting-toward-red ass cheeks, Annie began to laugh. She laughed so hard she collapsed in the grass beside the chair. From that vantage point, she could see something that the rest of the audience could not: Hank's penis had hardened -- in fact it was larger than she'd ever known it to get! The reason she could see it, however, was the funny part. It had forced its way between the webbing and stuck straight down toward the grass! Everybody was looking at her curiously. She couldn't stop laughing, so she pointed. Cindy had been beside her when the punishment had begun. She now bent to look where Annie was pointing. She cracked up and exclaimed, "Oh my God!"
The paddling continued for a full ten minutes. By the time Stella stopped, everybody was aware of Hank's further humiliation. She stopped paddling, but did not yet stand. "Now, Hank," she admonished, "I want you to apologize to Annie for treating her so poorly."
"Wha!...What the hell are you..." CRACK! the paddle sang out once more. "OW! Goddamnit! Knock it the fuck..." Stella laid on again. Another twenty or so blows and she stopped again. Hank, by now, was having a difficult time (not to mention a 'hard' time!) holding back tears of pain and rage. "Awright! I'm...s-sorry, Honey." CRACK! The paddle descended again. "What are you going to do to make up for all the years of being such a shit, Hank?"
"I'll...I...Crap! Um...I...All I can say is that I'll do better!" He didn't understand, himself, what was happening to him. His balls felt as if they were about to explode, and his dick was throbbing! CRACK! "Ow! Fuck!" Stella looked at Annie, who was wiping the tears from her cheeks and recovering her breath. Stella hooked a finger at the slight blonde. Annie rose to her knees beside the chair. Stella handed her the paddle and said, "I think you should get used to this, Dear. He will need further lessons. Annie smiled and stood, legs a little apart. She brought the paddle down viciously. Stella now had to hold on more tightly as Hank bucked under her. His legs flailed to the side, exposing his testicles to view -- a situation that Annie quickly seized upon, just as she seized those growths in her fist. Now she felt the power. Years of unacknowledged frustration and humiliation bubbled to the surface.
"Hank!" Her voice was loud in the yard. "From now on you will NOT make stupid demands of me!" CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! The latest three blows sent Hank over the edge -- in more ways than one. He began to blubber, tears flowing freely from his eyes, and snot glopping from his nose. Simultaneously, he felt his penis jerk as he spurted his seed into the grass beneath the chair. He groaned between sobs, puzzling the rest of the assembly. Stella knew, though, as did her husband, what had occurred. Annie wasn't to know about it until her husband rose up and limped to the house, sniffing and carrying his clothes. That's when she noticed the cum dripping from his deflated penis. She gasped and felt a stirring inside. It wasn't that she felt horny for Hank, but for whatever the power had given her. As for Hank, he no longer cared about being half naked before his friends. He went to the bedroom and, closing the door, collapsed on his belly on the bed.
As Cindy, Melanie, and their husbands thanked Annie for the dinner and entertainment, she just said, "The credit goes to Stella, mostly." When it was just Annie, Stella and Bill left, Annie hugged her new best friend. "I've never felt this way, Stella! It feels like a tremendous weight has been lifted." Stella chuckled and patted Annie's shoulder. "It has, Honey! About 200 pounds, in fact!" All three of them laughed at that. "Just see that you keep him in line now. He's cowed right now, but tomorrow he'll begin to recover. He might think he can go back to his old ways. Just keep the paddle by the bed. That orgasm might work for you, too." she glanced at Bill and he smiled at her, nodding. "Bill and I have been into domestic discipline since we got married. It's done wonders for us. And it isn't always 'punishment'. I'll bring you one of our leather paddles and a catalog. You'll probably want to order your own."
That night had opened a whole new world for Annie and Hank. The next day, being Sunday, Hank woke and rolled over onto his back, thinking he'd sleep in. But the pain in his still sore buttocks reminded him of what had happened the previous evening. Then he was surprised by Annie, who had already arisen. A few minutes after she heard him stirring, she returned to the bedroom. She was naked and carried the red, rubberized ping-pong paddle. Hank had quickly rolled back onto his belly, as he probably lain had all night. She flipped the blankets off him and jumped astride his back. He was startled and started to complain. His protests were silenced by the crack of the paddle on his bare butt.