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because the content has become more risqué than I originally intended.
Having said that, I’m not really happy with this chapter; but I’ve been agonizing over it for a couple of days, so I guess I should just post it.
To paraphrase Eisenhower: “The consequences of another postponement are too grave to contemplate.”
5. The Rules of the Game
I relaxed a little when I heard Rick chuckle from somewhere behind me, but he said nothing, and I turned my attention back to the stranger.
The man reached out and thrust a hand towards my chest. I cringed, but he just laughed and grabbed the strap which ran down my front to my wrists behind my back. With his other hand, he seized Annie’s. He drew us toward him until I felt his hot breath ruffling the sweat-plastered hair on my forehead. Then he began backing up, towards the house, pulling us along with him. He wasn’t moving fast, but shackled, stooped and hobbled, we had trouble keeping up with him. Frantically, panting and groaning through our gags, we both swung our heads around to see if Rick was following; but he had disappeared from sight.
It was an old-fashioned farmhouse, weather-beaten, in want of re-roofing and needing a paint job, untidy and neglected – desperate for a woman’s touch was what came to my mind (rather absurdly, given the circumstances). Half a dozen creaky steps led onto a broad veranda. We should not have had too much trouble climbing the stairs – a couple of hours of shuffling across meadows and creek beds had sharpened our skills – but the man was impatient, and kept yanking on our halters to keep us moving. We nearly stumbled a couple of times, but got no sympathy, only a sharper tug and a snort of annoyance that we weren’t keeping up .
When we were finally up on the porch, the man let go of the straps and ordered us to kneel. Without the use of my hands and with my ankles constrained, this was impossible to do without dropping onto my knees. The impact with the wooden boards sent a shock of pain up my thighs. Annie, however, lost her balance and pitched forward. I didn’t have time to react as she hit the deck with a dull thud. The neck chain jerked and I toppled along with her, bracing myself for the blow as my chest and chin rammed onto the floor.
It was a mild collision and I was only stunned for a second. Annie tried to get up onto her knees, but collapsed again and started squirming. The man planted his boot on her backside.
“Be still,” he growled. He spoke quietly but there was a cold, harsh edge to his voice. Annie whimpered, but settled down. I expected him to order us onto our knees, but he said “Stay there” and I heard him open the door. It wheezed and groaned on rusty hinges. He went inside the house, then came back out and crouched between our prostrate bodies. He put one hand around my waist and the other around Annie’s and, with a single heave, lifted us into a kneeling position. That took a lot of strength, but then he gently stroked my face and wiped a dab of saliva from the corner of my mouth. His fingers were not coarse like a farmer’s, and I remembered Rick saying he was an architect. I looked into his eyes. They were greenish-grey, and seemed to convey both tenderness and firmness.
But what he did next was awesome. He got between us again and, facing in the opposite direction to us, leaned forward until his shoulders were between Annie’s and my midsections. He gripped my backside, clenching a fistful of my bare flesh, and suddenly raised himself, in a single smooth movement, until he was standing upright, with his two bound, naked captives slung over his shoulders. Annie and I are both small, but that was nevertheless quite a feat. He staggered just a bit, and I was terrified he would fall backwards, hurling me face-forward to the floor; but he steadied himself and carried us into the house. He had to manoeuvre sideways to get us through the doorway, and my head banged lightly against the jamb.
“Sorry about that,” he said.
He hauled us though the living room. It was flamboyantly luxurious, nothing understated, with plush carpet, sumptuous furniture, grandiose fireplace, ornate chandelier. A large bookcase displayed an impressive collection of expensive leather-bound volumes, and the corner bar held a comprehensive range of wines and liqueurs. On one wall hung a large nude portrait of a strikingly beautiful woman, a brunette wearing a diamond-studded choker and tiara. She bore a striking, feminine resemblance to our host – mother or sister, it had to be. So strange.
He took us into the kitchen, which was by contrast to the living room cluttered and grimy, looking very much unused.
“Can’t have you dirty girls soiling the rugs,” he said as he dumped us onto the cold, hard tiles.
He left us there, and I could hear him and Rick talking in the other room. Neither of us moved, as we lay there side-by-side. Annie’s face was sweaty and flushed, but her eyes sparkled, and a smile curled around the red ball.
The men came into the kitchen but ignored us. Rick’s friend took two bottles of beer from the refrigerator and brushed the dust and cobwebs off two stools. They sat for a long time, sipping their drinks and looking down on us as we grovelled before them on the unswept terrazzo.
Finally, Rick spoke.
“This is my good friend David. Say hello, girls.”
We muffled a greeting through our gags, and for additional effect I wiggled my backside. That elicited a laugh.
“I like her,” David said.
“She’s yours,” Rick replied.
I gurgled an indignant protest. I wasn’t sure what he meant, and I really should have been a little less flippant about my situation. But by now I was feeling light-headed, and in any case, I had been at Rick’s mercy for several hours now. I figured that if things were going to turn out badly, they already would have. And maybe that’s not the smartest philosophy to guide you through life. But I guess I’m like the guy who fell out of a tall building. As he dropped past each floor, the people inside heard him say… “So far, so good.”
So far, so good.
Staring torpidly at David’s boots, I was startled when they suddenly moved. The two men got to their feet, leaned over us and unbuckled our gags. I sucked in a huge breath, licked my chapped and chafed lips, exercised my aching jaws.
“Don’t say a thing,” Rick commanded. “You only speak if you really need to. Understand?”
I nodded, twisting my head sideways to look up at them.
“Welcome to my home,” David said. “As you can see, the kitchen doesn’t get much use.” He paused and chuckled. “You’ll be taking care of that.”
As he said this, he crouched down beside me and lifted my feet until he had my legs in a hog-tie position. He bound my ankles to my wrists. Annie and I were still lying on our stomachs. The hog-tie was so stringent that my shoulders and knees were raised off the floor. My crotch-rope had been compelling me to bend my torso slightly to relieve the strain, but now the pressure was reversed and I was forced to arch my body backwards. The leather strap penetrated relentlessly, front and back, inducing once again that queer combination of pain and pleasure. Beside me, Annie was puffing and grunting as the same was done to her.
“We’ll be here a week,” David continued, “that is, unless you give it up and go home... which you can do at any time. We want this to be fun for all of us, you see.”
“You will be restrained for all that time,” Rick took over. “You will always have something – gag, blindfold, chains, or whatever...”
I gave a half-hearted nod, but I was wondering about that “whatever.”
“There will be plenty of playtime,” David continued. “There will be rituals as well, and lots of other things to keep us entertained.”
“But there’s more,” Rick went on.
“Okay,” I thought, “here it comes.” I glanced towards Annie to see if she was reacting. Her head was now turned away from me, but she appeared to be nodding.
“Naturally, you have the right to stop the game at any time; but there’ll be a price.” Rick’s tenor changed. “You have to co-operate entirely. Any bratty behaviour and you’ll be punished. If either of you continues to break the rules or disobey instructions, it’s over. We go home. Got it?”
Again I nodded. Annie made an “mmm” sound.
“Good girls.” Rick sounded pleased, with us and with himself. “Now you can speak.”
“I understand, sir,” Annie replied.
“I understand… sir,” I said, through gritted teeth.
The strain of the hog-tie was intense, and the crotch-rope was once again having its effect. It had begun to dry out, and drying leather tends to shrink. I steeled my nerves. “I’m sorry, but I have to say something else.”
I’m sure I heard a sharp intake of breath.
“I need to pee.”
Both men laughed. For one alarming second, I feared they were laughing at me, that I was in trouble.
“Of course,” David responded.
Annie and I were freed from our hog-ties. The release felt good, but also kind of disappointing. As if I’d failed a test. The guys helped us to our feet.
“Out through there, down the corridor and turn left,” our host explained. “Wait a minute,” he added. I paused for him to remove my crotch-rope, but instead he held up our ball-gags. “We can’t have you females yapping and gossiping as soon as you’re out of sight.”
Having practised and perfected our synchronised hobble over rough ground, we had no trouble negotiating the short passageway to the bathroom; but the cramped confines of the toilet alcove presented a different challenge. Annie mumbled what sounded like “You first,” so I manoeuvred myself into position, and she had to bend over as I sat down. Being naked, I didn’t have to worry about getting my pants off, but that damnable crotch-rope was still in place, so I had to lean forward, forcing Annie even lower, staring at the back of my head or straight into my lap. A few seconds later I felt blessed relief, but now I had something else to deal with – a shrunken leather strap, wet again and wedged tighter than ever between my legs. Oh goodie, I thought, this will be fun.
Annie and I changed positions. As we turned in the narrow space, we were squeezed together. She was so buzzed that I could feel her heart beating furiously through her chest. We stared into each other’s eyes, and she had the strangest of looks – of defiance and fury and shame – like a wild beast being tamed.
Either her body was more supple than mine, or her crotch-rope was not as tight, because she managed, even with her hands pinioned behind her, to move it out of the way. Leaning over her, my legs astride her knees, I had an excellent vantage point, and as I viewed the proceedings, my brain switched to flashback mode. This time yesterday, I was sitting in the faculty lounge, organizing next semester’s lecture materials on my laptop. Could even I, with all my own unique experiences, have imagined what I’d be doing just twenty-four hours later? And what would my class of callow undergrads think of their fearsome mentor – I had a formidable reputation in the department – if they could see her now? I must have giggled at the thought, because Annie mumbled some disapproving sounds. I looked up and her “What’s so funny?” expression was priceless.
I dribbled – I didn’t mean to – and a little globule dropped onto her thigh and rolled languidly down the inside. Annie made a nasty noise through her gag.
When we emerged, our menfolk were waiting for us in the living room. They were sitting on the sofa, with new beers. Rick waved his hand to call us to them, but in the middle of the room we were told to stop.
“Annie, sweetheart,” he said, “what’s happened there?” He was pointing towards her belly. He turned to me. “Fix it.”
Obediently, I twisted away from Annie and backed up until my fingers found the leather strap running the length of her torso. Shifting it wasn’t easy, with my arms shackled behind me. Whenever I moved them, the action pulled on my own crotch-rope. I ran my fingers down the strap, and she flinched and gasped as I slid it back into place. I glanced at the men, still lounging on the sofa, watching us with amused arousal.
Rick again motioned with his hand for us to kneel. When we’d done so – without tumbling this time – he and David began to discuss and evaluate our bodies. It wasn’t crude but it was all the same demeaning, especially when they started comparing our attributes. Annie scored higher on breasts, I did better on backside, and so on. The comments were, I have to admit, complimentary… which, oddly enough, I found more distasteful than if they’d been merely vulgar. But I could tell from their tone of voice that the guys were trying to elicit some sort of reaction from us. We refused to take the bait.
“Well, girls,” Rick finally said. “Are we ready for the games to begin?”
Funny, I thought they already had.
“Remember this, you’re not just playthings…”
“You’re our slavegirls,” David interjected. “What that means is that you’ll be making yourself useful in other ways as well. As you’ve seen from the state of the place, the house needs fixing up and the yard needs work as well. So there’s lots of stuff to keep you girls busy and out of mischief when you’re not entertaining us…”
“Or when we’re not entertaining you,” Rick added quickly.