A Lady Plays for Keeps

By Ashley Zacharias

Leslie is determined to lose weight and exercise more. Diets and gym memberships aren't enough for her. As a sexual masochist, she designs more powerful incentives to motivate good behavior in the first two stories. And she doesn't hesitate to include her husband, Alex, in her new, healthy lifestyle. In the last of these three short stories, she is convinced to apply her motivation techniques to a whole class of senior university students.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ashley Zacharias
• Release date: Aug 27, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310898976

Ashley Zacharias

I am a post-modern woman who lives a vanilla life but fantasizes about adventures in masochism. I appreciate readers who purchase my books but, more than money, I need your honest response to my writing. Review my books or contact me at ashleyzacharias.com and let me know what you think of my stories. Good or bad, as long as you are not indifferent, your honest response will help me to write more and better stories.You can find my thoughts about my own stories athttp://ashleyzachariascommentary.wordpress.com/Yours, Ashley

Book preview

A Lady Plays for Keeps

By

Ashley Zacharias

Copyright (c) 2015 Ashley Zacharias

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction, either in whole or in part, in any form. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy.

Contents

A Lady Plays a Game of Weight

A Lady Gets Hunted

A Lady Makes the Grade

Afterword

A Lady Plays a Game of Weight

Leslie poked at her spaghetti with her fork and frowned. She had eaten less than half her serving.

Her husband, Alex, raised an eyebrow. Something wrong, dear?

Yes.

I can cook you something else if you like. A grilled cheese sandwich, maybe.

No. She looked up and forced a smile. Your spaghetti is great. It tastes as good as always. It’s not the food, it’s me.

You’ve lost your appetite?

I wish. She dropped her fork. I’ve got too much appetite. That’s what’s wrong with me. Too much appetite. I’m a blimp.

Alex rocked back in his chair. What are you saying?

I’ve gained twenty pounds in the last year. I’m gross. I eat all the time and I’m gross.

Alex dropped his fork. You’re not gross. You’re not even fat. Maybe a little rounder than when I met you, but that’s just womanly curves. He looked at her chest. Her breasts were definitely bigger than when he’d married her. He liked that.

Leslie looked at her husband with round eyes. You’re calling me fat?

"No! Never! I said that you’re not fat. You’re… You’re perfect. That’s what you are. Perfect."

I’m perfectly round. That’s what you mean. I don’t even fit into my jeans any more. Look at this! She pulled her blouse up to bare her midriff. I’ve got a muffin top! She wailed. A goddamned muffin top!

The raised blouse revealed the bottom of her bra cups. They were full and round in a most wonderful way. Alex stared at them. Just buy a bigger waist size.

Her wail increased in pitch and volume.

I’m going to have to shop in the fat store. She shrieked. I’m going to be wearing a canvas tent by Christmas.

More of you to love? Alex’s voice was soft and uncertain. As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew that they were the wrong ones. He hoped that she hadn’t heard him over her shrieks.

She had. Her mouth snapped shut and she stared at him with malevolent fire burning in her eyes.

The sudden silence scared Alex. He wanted to bolt from the room but didn’t dare move.

What did you say? Her voice was smoldering. Low and grim. Smokey. Terrifying.

Nothing, dear.

You said that there was more … of me … to love. She spaced the horrid words to give them weight.

I… I… He didn’t know what to say, so he wisely decided to give it up and say only, I love you.

I love you, too, dear. She wasn’t smiling and her words were crusted with frost. All of you.

What?

You dare to call me fat when you’re hauling that beer belly into bed every night?

Hey! Alex straightened his posture. That’s not a beer belly. I hardly drink beer. He looked down at his gut. It’s not even that big.

It’s big enough to make your belt sag. How much weight have you gained in the past year?

I don’t know. I never weigh myself. Not that much.

You mean, not as much as me? She glared at him.

This conversation was quicksand and he was sinking deeper with every word. I mean that neither one of us is fat. We’ve reached our thirties. People in their thirties gain a couple of pounds. It’s biology. There’s nothing that we can do about it.

You’re thirty. I’m still twenty-nine.

He shrugged. Until next January.

Well, I’m going to do something about my weight before I’m thirty. I’m going to eat less.

Okay.

You should eat less, too.

Okay. He looked down at his spaghetti. He loved his spaghetti.

And we should both eat less fattening food. More vegetables and less pasta.

I like pasta.

She stared pointedly at her husband’s gut. We both like pasta. That doesn’t mean that we have to eat it.

Okay. We’ll eat less pasta.

More vegetables.

Okay.

I don’t mean potatoes. I mean green vegetables. Healthy vegetables.

Okay. He considered potatoes to be plenty healthy but he was past arguing.

She fell silent for a minute.

Alex rolled more spaghetti onto his fork and shoved it into his mouth.

We need motivation.

He swallowed. Motivation? He didn’t like the sound of that word. It sounded like misery.

An incentive to lose weight. We’re not going to lose a single pound just thinking about it. We need to motivate ourselves.

We’re not fat enough to join weightwatchers, he said. You do realize that we’re not all that fat, don’t you? We’re a long way from obese.

We’ll be our own weightwatchers. We can make a game out of it.

Alex’s gut clenched. A game? His voice was faint with fear. He knew about his wife and her games.

She liked playing games but what she really loved was to challenge herself to serve painful and humiliating penalties if she lost. Over the six years that Alex had known her, her penalties had escalated from a bit of bondage and playful spankings to life-altering ordeals.

And, worst of all, the last time they’d played for such dramatic stakes, Alex had lost. He had been the one to suffer a year of almost unbearable humiliation. That had ended only a few months ago. Every day since, he’d been grateful that she hadn’t mentioned playing another game.

Until today.

Yes. A real simple game. You and I are going to weigh ourselves at eight o’clock every Saturday morning. We’re going to compare our weights to the previous week. If we’ve both lost weight, then we’ve both won and we’ll have a nice weekend. If neither one of us has lost weight, then neither one of us has won, and shame on both of us. But if one of us has lost weight and the other one hasn’t, then we have a winner and a loser.

Uh huh. What happens if I lose?

She grinned at him with a demonic leer. The loser serves as the winner’s slave for the rest of the weekend. From eight o’clock on Saturday morning until ten o’clock on Sunday evening. She paused to make a quick calculation. Forty hours of slavery.

What does this slavery entail?

She waved her hand dismissively. Nothing exceptional. The usual. If I lose you can have as much sex with me as you want. Any kind you want. No orifice barred. Spankings allowed for failure to satisfy. Keep me naked. Bondage recommended to make sure that I’m compliant.

And if I lose?

Then you’ll get a lot less sex than if you win. You can give me some nice orgasms, but don’t expect to have any yourself. I’ll keep you busy cooking, cleaning, and gardening when you’re not pleasuring me.

Alex’s eyes narrowed. We won’t have to have sex with anyone else, will we? Alex had suffered being cuckolded after one of her games and was never going to risk that again.

No. Of course not. This is just you and me. No third parties involved. That can be included in the rules if you want, but I don’t think that it’s necessary. I don’t want you to have sex with any other women and I doubt that you want me to have sex with any other men. She looked at him. If you win and you order me to fuck other men, then I will, but I’m guessing that won’t happen.

She was sure as hell guessing right about that, he thought.

Oh, she said. One other thing. The winner can’t force the slave to eat. That wouldn’t be fair. You can’t fatten me up every weekend so that I can never lose weight and never win again.

Alex felt offended. I wouldn’t dream of it. Actually, he hadn’t even thought of it. But she had. Leslie was more devious than he was.

She grinned. But on weeks when you win, you can starve me all weekend if you want. That will be allowed.

I wouldn’t dream of that, either.

Then it sounds like we have a game. Leslie pushed her plate aside and stood up. We’ll have our first weigh-in tomorrow. I’ll write the rules out and you can review them and suggest modifications. That way we’ll know that we both agree on all the details.

Wait, Alex said. How long is this game going to last? We can’t keep losing weight until one of us dies of starvation.

Until I lose twenty pounds, Leslie said. I’m sure that you could stand to lose that much, too. She grinned happily and left the room.

Her mood had improved immeasurably now that a game was afoot.

As soon as Alex was alone, he shoveled all the spaghetti on his plate into his mouth, then dragged her half-eaten plate over and finished it, too.

Tomorrow would be the baseline weigh-in. The more he weighed tomorrow, the easier it would be to lose some during the week and avoid losing the first round of the game.

He had no enthusiasm for serving as his wife’s slave for a weekend. She knew how to take all the joy out of his life. On the other hand, if he won, he would have a lovely couple of days using her at his whim.

Life with Leslie wasn’t all bad.

* * *

Weight loss is always easy at the beginning of a diet. At the end of the first week, Alex had lost four pounds and Leslie, three. Both Alex and Leslie lost a pound or two each week for the following two weeks. They were both winners, so neither had to pay a penalty to the other.

That changed on the last week of the first month.

Up to that point during the game, Alex and Leslie had been having sex every week – about as much as they normally did it. But once a week wasn’t nearly as much as Alex would have liked. The possibility that Leslie would have to serve as his sexual slave for a couple of days was making him hornier than usual.

She was correct about the game providing motivation to diet. He ate as little as he could stand, forcing himself to lose weight, waiting for Leslie to fail.

On the Saturday morning of their fifth weigh-in, Alex watched Leslie step naked onto the scales while he stared at the display. The digital scale, accurate to a half pound, showed her weighing a full pound more than she had at the previous week’s weigh-in.

Not only had she not lost weight; she’d gained a pound.

She groaned and stepped off the scales.

Though that pound might only have been only a bit more hydration than usual – she’d been thirsty and had drunk an extra glass of water when she got out of bed – she attributed the gain to a business dinner on Thursday. She could have ordered a salad, but the daily special was fettuccini Alfredo. The waitress had made it sound delicious and Leslie, having eaten no pasta for weeks, told herself that she deserved one nice meal. Surely one meal two days before the weigh-in wouldn’t hurt. She went for it.

Now, she cursed herself for pandering to her moment of weakness.

Alex made note of the date and her weight in the ledger that they kept on the bathroom counter. He grinned at her. You didn’t lose any weight this week, dear. You’re going to serve as my sex slave for the next forty hours. He sounded delighted.

She interpreted his smile as insufferable smugness. Only if you’ve lost weight. She grasped at the faint hope and stared at the scales when he stepped on them.

He was down by a pound.

As soon as she saw his weight register on the scale, she immediately dropped to her knees on the bathroom floor, still naked. I await your command, master.

He gave her credit for entering into the full spirit of the game, but he wasn’t surprised. She’d never before hesitated to serve her penalty when she lost a wager, no matter how outrageous her punishment. It helped that she was a perfectionist. She might hate being a sex slave, but if she were going to do it, she was going to be the perfect sex slave.

Alex didn’t reply until he noted his own weight in the ledger.

On the bed, on your back, legs spread wide, hands clasped behind your head.

She sprang to her feet and hustled into the bedroom.

His cock stirred as he watched her lovely round ass bounce out the door.

His cock rose to full attention a minute later when he came into the room and saw her wet cunt shining between her widespread thighs, waiting to be violated.

Violate her, he did, without preamble.

He didn’t tell her to change position, so she kept her hands clasped behind her neck, pushing her naked breasts up against his chest, as he thrust into her, again and again and again.

She rocked her pelvis upward to maximize the pressure of him against her clit.

He had no reason to concern himself about a slave’s orgasm, so she knew that she had to come quickly if she wanted to come at all. He wasn’t going to delay his own pleasure on her account.

As she neared her climax, she bucked harder and faster under him, driving him closer to his own climax.

They came at the same time, groaning and shuddering together.

She knew that this was as good as her weekend was going to get. During the next forty hours, he would have more orgasms; she would not.

He rolled off her and lay panting next to her.

He had not told her to maintain her position, so when the sex was over, she closed her legs and unclasped her hands from behind her neck.

After five minutes, Alex said, Clean me up.

He hadn’t told her to use her tongue, so she was at liberty to retrieve a warm, wet washcloth and towel from the on-suite bathroom and wipe his crotch clean and then dry him off.

You can stay naked.

He dressed himself in jeans and a tee shirt and wandered out of the bedroom.

Immediately, he poked his head back into the room. Bacon, eggs over easy, and toast. You can serve me in the family room. He retreated again.

She followed him down to the kitchen, shutting curtains and blinds as she went. Neither one of them would want to shock the neighbors with her nudity.

When she cooked the bacon she stood as far back from the stove as she could reach. Even so, the hot grease spattering onto her naked breasts and belly stung.

After breakfast, Alex stared at her tits and got another hard-on. Without comment, he put his dirty dishes aside and fucked her on the couch.

She didn’t come this time. Didn’t even come close.

The remainder of Leslie’s first weekend of sexual slavery was uneventful. Apart from remaining naked, serving Alex meals, and spreading her legs three more times for him, she mostly lounged