Lionclothslave had a very good piece of advice just above. I've been posting chapters as they were written/published years ago, only breaking them up if they exceeded the 20,000 character limit. But L suggested posting shorter bites, and that seems like a very good idea. Thanks, L.
That said, this one is the entire Chapter 2, as it is a fairly short chapter to begin with.
Chapter Two
I sat back in my chair, the reclining back going to the limit of its movement. Get fucked by my two lab rats, er, assistants? Give them both a blowjob? I smiled at the audacity of what they had proposed. Only undergrads could dream up something like that! I was committed, though. I had told them to propose a bet and I would take it, and they and I had done so.
I flashed on a mental image of me on Sunday afternoon if I lost. I saw myself from the side on a bed on all fours, my boobs hanging down and swinging from the force of what was being done to my body. One of the boys was at my front end. I could not see his erection because it was all the way into my mouth, my nose at his pubic hair, his fingers entangled with my tresses. My other boy was at the other end of me, his erection also not visible because it was buried in my vagina, his hips hard against my ass pushing the cheeks flat and hands gripping my hips.
That is what I was committed to. I did not want to be there. God, no, I did not want to be there. However, knowing that could be my fate if the result of some football game, something over which I had no influence or control, went against me caused a rush of adrenaline like I have seldom felt.
My pussy was suddenly leaking fluid like a statue of the Virgin Mary at Lourdes. My stomach felt as if some erotic creature were flitting around inside, looking for escape. My head felt light; my heart was racing.
Why? By some instinct native to the human creature I realized it was the delicious tension between the fear of losing and the desire to win. That tensity consumed me. I was facing the difference between the utter fear and humiliation of losing and the triumph and relief of winning. It was intoxicating.
I was committed. The fear of the consequence of losing had consumed me for many minutes. Then my rational mind took over. I realized the image that had just teased and tormented me would never come real. There was no possibility of losing and having to face and perform that fate. So, since I was now committed, I calculated it was time to give serious consideration to what I wanted to win.
* * * * * * * *
Thursday came and the boys showed up for work at two o'clock. I showed them the tasks they had to accomplish, showed them a new function for one of the pieces of equipment they used regularly. They would need to use that function today, and I told them to call me when they got to that step, as I wanted to supervise it directly.
As I sat over in my work cubby, I saw the boys talking, taking quick glances in my direction.
Good, I thought, I hope they're sweating a little bit anyway.
The time came to do the step with the new equipment function. Paul came and got me, and I went out into the lab, watched them closely as they went through the procedure.
"Is that all you have for us, Roberta?" Hank asked when the step was successfully done.
"Yeah, that's it for now. Good job," I told them, and then returned to my workspace, thinking, Good.
The end of the afternoon came, and they needed to leave presently for football practice. They came over to my workplace and took up the same positions at my desk they had on Tuesday.
"Something guys?" I asked.
"Um, your part of the bet?" Hank asked. "What you want if you win."
"Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, that," I said. "Thanks for reminding me." They looked at one another.
I sat back in my chair. A bearing squeaked somewhere under the seat.
"Yeah, hey, from what you guys want to win it sounds like you two are pretty confident that you can get it up and come twice in an afternoon. I also have confidence in you in that regard. So, after you two and your team make a big smoking crater on Saturday, you guys are going to show up at my place on Sunday afternoon. Shall we call it three o'clock for the payoff either way?"
They nodded, still in the dark about where I was going.
"Okay, so the first thing you'll have to do is strip, naked," I said. "Then I'm going to have you jerk-off while I watch. One at a time. Just to make sure you get the spotlight all to yourself."
They did not look overly concerned about that task, in fact maybe a little relieved.
"Oh, and I'm going to have a plate for you to come on," I said, "and you'll lick that plate clean after you're done." I think they were trying not to react, but I saw Paul wrinkle his nose a little. "That's come number one. For number two you’re going to take turns sucking each other off. Yes, you will swallow." They exchanged a quick look. "Just look at the whole thing as a taste test. You can compare notes when you get back to your room." The two of them looked at each other.
"We're not gay, you know, Roberta," Paul said.
"I never said you were," I returned. "Hey, just look at this as a way to explore your sexuality. You did say, let me see - how did you put it? - something like, ‘Roberta, you just come up with whatever you want to win and we'll agree to it.’ Something like that, wasn't it? Do you guys really think you're the only ones with an imagination?"
"Um," Paul began.
"Now you're not trying to weasel out on what you said, are you?" I asked.
There were a few seconds of silence then Paul said, "Okay, Roberta, it's a bet."
I turned to Hank and gave him a questioning look. "It's a bet. Okay," he said.
They had to leave presently to make it to football practice, and they were soon heading for the door. I did not hear a single word from Stan and Ollie as they left.
To be honest, I had no idea whether the scene I had conjured would be a turn-on for me or not. I had never witnessed anything even remotely like any of this. Who knows? Maybe it would be, maybe not. I did know, though, that even if it were not it would at least be more entertaining than doing my laundry, my typical Sunday afternoon pastime.
I have never been one of those 'euww icky-poo' girls. Watching a man strip would be interesting enough. The role reversal would be engaging. Women strip for men all the time. How wonderful it would be to watch these two boys take their clothes off. Would they be insecure about the size of their dicks? Would they have a boner? Or would they be shriveled with embarrassment?
It would be an entertaining and educational novelty to watch them stroke their dicks. My hope was that they would be experiencing an extreme of embarrassment and self-consciousness that would make it difficult to come, prolonging the show. I would relish the moment when they stuck their tongues out to start lapping their own cum. Now, would I have them jerk-off standing or on their knees? I’d have to give that one some thought.
I was sure they had been telling the truth when they said they were neither of them gay. That being the case, this would likely be the first time either of them would taste and feel a cock in his mouth.
I couldn't wait to see each of them get on his knees and approach a hard dick, no choice in the matter, then tentatively put the head in his mouth, move farther down the shaft, then begin to bob his head; the charming embarrassment, maybe panic, each would exhibit as cum began to squirt into his mouth. Would they gag as they swallowed? And the other: realizing he has just had an orgasm in response to another man's mouth around his dick. I was beginning to smile at these mental images.
Maybe this would be a turning point in their relationship.
I considered again. Would humiliating these two boys be a turn-on for me? What did it say about me that I was now so eager to win this bet, to make my little scenario reality? Well, it was better than the alternative. What would I discover about myself on Sunday? All speculation: but what I knew as fact was that the boys had plotted and planned, had devised a bet that would visit on me extreme humiliation. So, I concluded my inner debate with the thought, What’s good for the goose is good for the gander and left it at that. Actually, this was beginning to sound like fun.
I thought briefly of making them satisfy me orally. It was an interesting thought, but I rejected it. First, as I mentioned, I was entirely unsure if winning this bet and putting the boys through their humiliating little paces would turn me on. Second, while reaching sexual fulfillment is great, I did not have any desire for either of these boys to take me there. And third, if I did get turned on then, absent a lover to do the job, I knew my fingers and toys were most reliable and would do the job better than the boys ever could. And did I really want that sort of intimate contact with the boys? Not a chance. Avoiding such intimacy was the whole point of winning rather than losing.
No, just humiliating these two males, who wanted to wager me into a position to strip for them and then submit for their sexual satisfaction, would be quite enough.
Since the result of the game and the resolution of the bet was not in question, I was free to begin looking forward to Sunday afternoon and exploring the role of the dominant female with a couple of males to shame and humiliate. Maybe this was a way to explore my sexuality!