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The Game

“Laura, we’re going to a game party tonight.”

A game party?  A boring evening of Trivial Pursuit springs to mind.  Then I see the glitter in Jeremy’s eyes.  I understand.  This is not going to be a normal game party.  This is what we’ve been talking about for years.

We’re going public.

He’s ready.  I suppose I am, too.

While he selects my clothes in the closet (a short black dress and matching high heels), I try to guess what he’s prepared and, more importantly, who we’re going to play with.  We’ve met a few bdsmers over the last couple of years: people we’ve met in bars, shared emails with, even chatted with.  I think of another M/f couple that shares many of our ideas on how to blend our particular kinks into our lives, but we’ve never discussed a scene with them.  At least I haven’t.  Has he? 

I slip on the heels as my heart races at the thought that he might have misunderstood my feelings and fantasies.  There are so many ways of going public…then again, we’ve talked about our fantasies a lot, so I simply have to trust him.  I do.

Confirming my silent observations, he asks me to spread my legs and inserts a plug in my ass.  I hate this.  He knows it.  But this is an old routine.  I suppose this is why we call ourselves S&M. 

He adds another item, this time one I love to wear.  To an outsider, the black leather collar might pass for an uncommon piece of jewelry, but thin as it is, it is solid enough to keep me from moving once the ring hidden beneath my hair is chained to any anchoring spot he fancies.  It also forces me to move when he connects a leash to it.  But tonight, he simply clicks the collar behind my neck and lets my hair hang loose behind it. 

I take a look at him.  He wears his leather pants, a white shirt, and a black jacket.  I instinctively lean over to kiss him, wishing we could cancel the party and stay here, all by ourselves.  Who needs the others?  But I know we have to try this, at least once.  To see how it feels.

Apparently, we’re ready to go.  He phones for a taxi, helps me put on my coat, and we’re out the door.  The cold air brushes against my naked ass and makes me shiver, but not as much as the anticipation of what is to come.

As soon as he presses the bell, the door opens onto a large hallway.  Coats hang on one side, casting their reflections in a tall antique mirror on the opposite wall.  At the end of the hallway, another door is closed.  No one to welcome us.  This is weird.

Weirder still, he undresses me and leaves me completely naked, save for the heels, the collar and the invisible plug.  From his pocket, he retrieves a pair of cuffs that soon connect my hands behind my back.  Now I’m scared.  And so wet already.  I hope I’m not dripping.

“Are you ready for this?” he asks, his voice gentle and reassuring, his hands holding me steady.

Even though I’ve never stopped anything he’s planned before, I appreciate his question.  I know I could end it here if I wanted to.  But if he’s decided we’re ready, then I am.  I give him the only two words he need to hear.  A code that tells him I’ve already entered my submissive mode. 

“Yes, please.”

He’s fully in charge now.

He opens the door and gives me a slight push forward. 

My face turns red instantly and my eyes take shelter toward the floor as I feel a series of eyes staring at me.  Strangers.  Seeing me naked, collared, and cuffed.  I need his arm on my hips to keep walking, and I convince myself that these people are like us, not offended at all, just amused by my fears, that all this has been planned by him.  Still, it doesn’t make me feel any better, and I almost turn around to ask him to leave.  I can’t do this.

“Hi, Jeremy.  Nice to see you again.  Hi, Laura!”

Are they talking to me?  I look up, still unable to stop the shivering in my body, and give the man who’s just spoken a weak smile, turning to Jeremy with a question mark on my face.  He grins.  My god, he’s already enjoying this!

“This is Thomas, our host for the evening.  And you already know Bill and Mary.”

The couple we met on the Internet.  Bill’s sitting on the sofa.  Mary’s kneeling at his feet, as naked as I am.  Somehow that makes me feel a lot better, especially when I realize she’s adorned with nipple clamps.  Why have I escaped that?

Thomas introduces us to another man, Andrew, who gets up briefly from his armchair to shake Jeremy’s hand and nod to me.  I nod in return, knowing all too well that not many words will pass my lips tonight.  Strangely, I don’t mind the limitation, as my voice would probably sound too shaky for my liking.

When Jeremy sits down next to Bill, I naturally assume the kneeling position everyone seems to expect.  He strokes my shoulder.  Mary smiles at me.  I relax.  We’re obviously all on the bus.  Three male doms, two female subs.  This could be fun.

As drinks are served (he orders for me), I realize everyone knew about this party except me.  Jeremy must have met Thomas before, too.  And I thought I knew everything…we’ll have a talk tonight, darling.

 It isn’t until our host mentions the game for the first time that I notice the low table in the center of our small circle.  It’s a sturdy wooden table on four legs.  Nothing too special, except for the iron bolts at the bottom of each leg, and a series of eyelets running along the sides.  Being the bondage freak I am, I imagine how it must feel like to be tied up on it.  The table extends beyond the legs over 30 centimeters on both sides, meaning the arms and legs of any person lying on it can be restrained in a not-too-distorted fashion.  Arms simply lying down, legs spread out and bent to a natural angle, leaving the body well exposed and utterly defenseless.  A wonderful design.  And the dark wooden surface seems so smooth, too.

I’m so intrigued by the table, I haven’t noticed that everyone is looking at me.  Damn, I must have missed an important moment here.  I blush and look up at Jeremy, relieved to see he fights an urge to laugh.  I feel like winking, but I don’t.  After all, we’re in public here.  A sub doesn’t wink to her dom, does she?

He makes a move and I understand I must stand up.  He removes my metal cuffs.  Following his indications, I lie on the table, totally mesmerized.

While he places leather restraints on my limbs and locks them to the legs of the table, just as I imagined they would be a few minutes ago, I try to pay attention to Thomas’s explanations of the rules.  Obviously, he is speaking for my benefit, as everyone else seems very much aware of them.  Even Jeremy. 

I lose a number of details, but I’ve got the general concept.  I’m not sure whether I like it or not.

There’s a huge board game placed on an easel in front of me.  Squares with various drawings and shades make up a long spiral leading to a big purple star in the middle of the board.  Three magnetic pawns (blue, red, yellow) are waiting on the start square.  I automatically assume that Mary won’t get to play.  At least not with a pawn.

“The rules are fairly simple,” says Thomas.  “After rolling a dice, the player moves forward on the spiral.  The number he obtains not only indicates how far he may go, but also the intensity of the action he’ll take.” 

Intensity of the action.  My heart accelerates again.

Squares are divided into three categories that indicate the type of action to be taken: cuffs drawn on brown squares (bondage), clamps on blue (pain), feather on yellow (teasing), dildo on red (direct stimulation).  I notice that the colors are not distributed fairly through the spiral.  Brown dominates the outer ring, red dominates the inner ring.  Blue and yellow are everywhere, but with a marked concentration in the middle sections.  Whoever invented this game was a perverted genius.

“One more rule,” adds our grinning host.  “Any player who makes our willing victim come before the end of the game is eliminated.  The winner, however, has total freedom on how to end her predicament.  And for how long.”

My chest heaves up and down, in rhythm with my wild breathing, as the realization of what is going to happen to me sinks in.  I gaze to the right, where Jeremy has resumed his seat.  Immediately, the look in his eyes calms me down.  He’ll take care of me.  He knows how far I can go and he’ll make sure my limits are respected. 

Again, I try to relax.  After all, I’ve been dreaming of this for years.  Funny how fantasies turned real can be terrifying.  I only hope he’ll be the winner.  But I know he has the best chance.  He knows so well how not to make me come.  And how to.

The game starts when he rolls the dice on my stomach, indicating a new unspoken rule: I’m not supposed to move and let it fall.

He gets a four, and Andrew, who’s sitting next to the easel, moves the blue pawn accordingly.  He reaches a brown square.  Bondage.  Intensity four.  Whatever that means.

He gets up to walk behind me, where, he’ll tell me much later, an impressive assortment of bondage material and toys has been laid down for everyone to use.  I see him return with a penis gag.  He expertly places it into my mouth and buckles the wide leather strap around my head.  Then he sits, and it’s Thomas’s turn to roll the dice.

When each player has rolled twice, I’m already well on my way to subland.  Ropes have been wrapped quite redundantly around my legs and hips, while earplugs cut me out of the general discussion and laughter (nothing like a bad pun to spoil the mood, if you ask me).  Someone landed on “pain - level 1” and tickled me mercilessly with a long black feather, an easy ordeal I soon regretted when I felt the bites of clothespins on my tender nipples.  If I hadn’t been gagged, I would have expressed my disagreement on this being qualified as “level 3” only. 

However, my traitorous sex reacts in clear opposition to my mind, and when the dice roll again, it more than welcomes the vibrator that Jeremy inserts as a result of his “tease - 5” draw.  He keeps the remote on his lap and plays the tune like the connoisseur he is, bringing me higher and higher each time.  Yet never high enough. 

When he must play again (by then, tweezer clamps have replaced the clothespins on my nipples, weights have been added, and rubber mittens have turned my hands into fists), Jeremy hits a blue square with a winning 6.  My heart skips a beat.

After removing the vibrator, he coats the inside of my vagina with what feels like lubricant, but is not.  I know that for sure because I’m already dripping and don’t need further help to get wet.  And also because the area his finger just touched is now burning cruelly, and I’m powerless to stop the fire from the athletic salve eating me alive.  Tears spring to my eyes and I moan with despair, until the heat turns into a more bearable warmth, and my muscles instinctively clench at nothing.  I’ve now reached the point of no return.  I want more, I need more, I’m ready for anything.

And the dice roll again.

I am thoroughly enjoying the escalating bondage and torment, when the unexpected happens.  Bill’s pawn stops on “tease - 6” and he gestures for Mary to move forward.  As she lowers her head between my quite immobilized legs, and her tiny tongue barely brushes my clitoris, a shockwave ripples through my body, and I panic.  This wasn’t my fantasy.  I have never mentioned being touched by another woman, and certainly not another sub! 

My heartbeat frantically pounding in my head—the only sound I can hear—I look at my lover with all the anguish I can convey through my eyes.  I’m not ready for this.  Please, will you stop it?

He seems to hesitate for a second, says a few words I don’t hear, then walks behind me and…places a blindfold over my eyes.

Oh, good, like this will help me forget there’s a woman licking me! 

Now I’m angry, and squirm and whimper enough to show it.  But the game doesn’t stop.  Nor does Mary.

At first, I oppose her touch defiantly, refusing its subtle approach, its amazing softness, its undeniable expertise.  But I’m addicted to pleasure, and this is a golden source.  So I let go.

The blindfold does make it easier.  I can enter my own world and forget all those people watching me as I become aroused from another woman’s tongue. 

It also occurs to me that someone else—Jeremy?—could have taken Mary’s place between my legs.  The touch is so perfectly adjusted to my body, triggering all the reactions I expect.  As a woman, Mary must know all the tricks.  However, Jeremy knows me even better.

And yet, whoever is touching me no longer matters.  I’m past caring now. 

Soon, the sensations turn so powerful that tears roll down my cheeks again, this time drawn by too much pleasure.  I try to bring my body closer to the evasive touch, but all I can do is bang the legs of the table with my fists and sigh in frustration.

When my body tenses in anticipation of the upcoming relief, Mary stops. 

And it’s as if the world has abandoned me.

Not for long, though.  Without giving me any time to breathe my way back to a semblance of normality, different hands adorn and torment my helpless body.  A trainer is molded to my head and fixed at the top to the end of the table, depriving me of a last tension-relieving move.  My breasts are squeezed between yards of rope.  My toes are tied together—I have no doubt this is Jeremy’s doing—and tiny vibrators massage my soles until I manage to kick them off.  This earns me a thorough spanking on the inside of my thighs and a few more clothespins in strategic places.  When the vibrators are stuck back to my feet, I force my legs to keep still and almost die with the effort.

Pain and teasing take turns to send me deeper and deeper into this mode where I no longer function normally.  I’m obsessed with one single thought: please, make me come.  How that is achieved hardly matters.  The primary question is: How long will it take?  The secondary question is: How long will it last?  But the conviction of reaching the ultimate goal is, in itself, already mind-blowing.

Before losing my mind and giving up to pleasure, I smile under the gag. 

In this game, I’m the only one certain to win.

Copyright © 2015 by Chelsea Shepard.  All rights reserved.

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