‘It’s like Truth or Dare. Except All Dare. The hottest game at all the film and theatre parties now. And strictly for Adults Only.’
‘So we gathered,’ Scott muttered.
Juliet sighed; her husband and friends were so parochial. ‘If anyone’s having second thoughts now, after the money I put into it… ‘ She stood by the fireplace, hands on hips, a Titian-haired, plump-cheeked challenger to her associates’ conservatism. ‘Brandon?’
She asked Brandon first, knowing he was the most enthusiastic. The polished walnut skin of his lithe dancer’s body seemed flushed with anticipation, and beads of sweat crowned his shaved head, but still he feigned stoicism. ‘So we each get a card, and perform for the others?’
It was a statement more than a question, but Juliet answered it, for the benefit of their more disinclined spouses. ‘Sometimes, depending upon the scenario; most will require… assistance. Well, we’re all close friends here, aren’t we? We’ve nothing to hide or fear from each other. Right, Mae?’
Mae looked as dubious as always; with her sallow face, taut brunette hair and huge brown eyes, she always looked like a caged bird, desperate to anywhere else, doing anything else. ‘I’m not really into these type of games.’
No shit, Juliet thought. ‘Role playing is a means of safely experimenting with fantasy, testing, even expanding the boundaries of one’s inhibitions – and having a good time doing it, too.’
‘And those… costumes… in the bedroom?’
‘Props.’ Nothing further was said, and Juliet considered that the end of Mae’s reluctance, at least audibly; Mae always had to be dragged kicking and screaming into having fun, didn’t she? ‘And you, Scott?’
Juliet knew that look her husband shot her: ‘What, my opinion is being asked?’ He was tall, thin, with an embarrassment of curly blonde hair, hangdog eyes and coat hanger shoulders – and an inability to sustain any sort of rebellion. True to form, he replied, ‘Whatever you say, dear.’
‘Good.’ She beamed; this would be their best evening’s fun yet. ‘You can go first.’
Scott finished his drink and rose, looking like a man on a death march as he approached the Game console, an electronic box the size and shape of a piano keyboard. He pressed the button indicating his name; the internal laser printer hummed, and in seconds, an index card appeared at the side; he took it and read it. ‘This can’t be right.’
Juliet snatched the card from him, read it, reminded of those impersonal “personalised” computer-generated sweepstakes letters:
SCOTT’s Scenario: Sex and Sensibility
You are a young Georgian butler, employed by the decadent Lord BRANDON and Lady JULIET. The woman you secretly love, the maid MAE, will be deflowered this night by His Lordship, unless you cheat him of his prize.
She laughed. ‘Nice to start off with a Classic.’ She returned the card to him. ‘So what’s the problem?’
He pointed to it. ‘Mae’s name’s here, too.’
‘What?’ Mae rose, taking the card.
Juliet was nodding. ‘Yes, and?’ At their expressions, she continued. ‘I fed it our names and genders; it chooses the performers and scenarios at random. If we had more people here, we’d have more diverse combinations-‘
‘And you expect Mae and I to-‘
‘-To follow the scenario on the card. It’s clear enough, isn’t it?’ But she knew what he meant, and barely concealed her pleasure at his discomfort.
‘Yes. Clear.’ Mae couldn’t take her eyes off the card.
Juliet continued, asking, ‘Did you think it would just pair us up with our existing partners? Now that would be boring! I thought I explained all this already.’ She changed tack. ‘Of course, if Scott finds Mae too unattractive, or vice versa… ‘
She watched them exchange looks that told much, and not just between themselves. When she saw their resistance crack, Juliet reached up and patted Scott on the cheek, like a mother chiding her son’s first-day-at-school nerves. ‘Now get going; and be convincing.’
Synthesised harpsichord music tinkled from the Console, trying its level best to add atmosphere to the scenario. Nearby, Mae was on her hands and knees, pretending to scrub the carpet. She looked ravishing – or at least ravishable – in the maid’s outfit: an old-fashioned black knee-length dress, stockings, cap and apron. From the other end of the room, Juliet and Brandon sat on the couch, watching, waiting.
Scott finally appeared, dressed uneasily in butler’s tails, pausing before speaking. ‘Miss Mae, I- I must speak with you.’
Mae didn’t respond, and for an angry moment Juliet thought she’d chicken out and spoil the performance. But then she replied, ‘Lord Brandon expects this work completed quickly, Master Scott.’
‘And you and I know why.’ Scott approached and knelt beside her. ‘He has designs upon you. But I will not allow the likes of him to take that which you have pledged to me.’
On the couch, Brandon placed a warm hand on Juliet’s knee, whispering, ‘This is your best suggestion yet, girl.’
‘Better than just straightforward partner-swapping, eh?’
He let his hand rise beneath her skirt. ‘I never thought I’d see my Mae with another man.’
‘It’s not “your Mae”,’ Juliet pointed out, feeling her pussy moisten, throb. ‘It’s Mae the virginal maid. There’s a performer inside each of us, eager to try anything, for the attention. Trust a struggling actress on this.’ Still, she was secretly surprised at the verve the two invested, once into their show. Juliet knew Scott and Mae secretly fancied each other since the two couples met a year ago, but never thought they’d actually put flesh to it – and with an audience, too!
Brandon’s fingertips reached her knicker elastic. ‘I can’t wait for our turn-‘
‘Shush.’ Juliet placed her hand onto his, halting further progress without rejecting him. Brandon was another reason for renting out the Game: Juliet and he had been fucking on the sly for some time now, but the inherent secrecy involved had grown tiresome. Now, with the Game as an excuse, they could carry on openly, especially with their spouses similarly occupied.
Scott the butler drew Mae the maid closer, anger and lust vying for dominance in his gaze. ‘Damn Brandon and Juliet! I wanted you from the moment I first set eyes upon you! And you’ve wanted me!’
From the couch, Juliet smiled; if she didn’t know better, she’d swear Scott was a brilliant improv actor.
And Mae, the breath racing from her, also appeared to be speaking more to the audience than to her suitor. ‘Yes, Scott! Cheat them of their prize! Take me, now!’
Corny, pseudo-Gothic dialogue, perhaps, but the subsequent kiss more than compensated, their passions meeting and colliding like two great waves, their hands running almost frantically over each other. With unanticipated fervour Scott rucked up Mae’s dress to her waist, revealing sheer black panties steepling the tops of matching hold-up stockings.
Now he reached up and drew down her panties with a swish, the audience forgotten in the sweep of passion. He spread Mae’s legs, exposing her dark mahogany bush, glistening at the keel with pinpoints of silver dew, the woman’s arousal made manifest. Juliet frowned; from Brandon’s malignant accounts of sex with Mae, Juliet thought the woman should be embalmed, not embraced.
‘Hurry, Scott, hurry,’ Mae was panting beneath him. ‘Before His Lordship arrives!’
Scott threw off his prop jacket, then undid his trousers, drawing them and his briefs down to his knees to reveal his erection, long and pink, rising from a curled honeyed bush, its head flaring. Mae drew her knees up until her shoes were flat upon the carpet; Scott positioned himself at her entrance and without further ado gently slid inside, Mae sighing as she accommodated him to the hilt.
Juliet ignored the urge to scratch the itch in her knickers, or let Brandon scratch it, absorbed as she was by the sight of Scott thrusting into a grunting Mae, two rutting beasts, Scott showing a spirit Juliet hadn’t seen for quite some time. She’d conceded long ago that sex with him would be strictly functional, competent – now she had to reassess him.
The quartet stopped for drinks after Scott and Mae finished. They clung together openly now, his arm around her, laughing and whispering in her ear, with Mae, still in her maid’s costume, giggling like a schoolgirl. Juliet supposed it was a natural reaction on their part after what just occurred, but it still unnerved her. It wasn’t a matter of hypocrisy, of course – why shouldn’t they have fun, after all, if Juliet and Brandon did? – but that Mae, or for that matter Scott, would be capable of doing it at all. Reminding herself of the Game’s objectives didn’t help; tonight’s performance had weakened her perceptions of them both, and she felt an immature need to re-establish them. ‘It’s Mae’s turn next.’
Brandon sided up behind Juliet, his erection poking between her cheeks. ‘Mae’s already performed.’
Juliet knew why he mentioned it, his impatience for a show with Juliet evident, but she remained adamant. ‘That was Scott’s turn, and primarily his performance for us.’
Scott gently squeezed Mae’s side. ‘Mae did play a small part in it.’
Mae looked up at him, grinned and kissed him again. Juliet felt a faint scowl rising on her. ‘We all agreed that each of us would enact our allotted scenarios, and abide by their conditions. Well, Mae?’
Downing her drink in one, Mae parted from Scott and called up her own scenario. Moments in reading it, she looked up with a grin that could have been nerves or anticipation. Maybe both. ‘This will be interesting.’
Juliet took the card:
MAE’s Scenario: Striptease
You are the hottest stripper in town, the centre of attention. You will perform an erotic dance for BRANDON, SCOTT and JULIET. You may touch them, and yourself, but they may not touch you.
Juliet passed the card to the men. The old Mousy Mae wasn’t before her now; it was as if bringing Scott and she together had awakened something in the younger woman. And Juliet didn’t think she liked it.
When Mae told the console she was ready, it began playing an appropriately raunchy number, worlds apart from the earlier Mozart Muzak. Then she emerged gyrating from the bedroom, to cheers and wolf whistles from the men. Her outer clothes had been discarded, leaving her lacy black bra, panties, stockings and shoes. Her hair was unbunned, cascading to her shoulders.
The audience sat on appropriated kitchen chairs, as if they were in Mae the Stripper’s club. Juliet affected a slightly disinterested air from the more exuberant men, without being seen to have adopted Mae’s old title of Wet Blanket. Damn it, Mae shouldn’t be enjoying herself so much now!
But she was, judging from the look on her face, twisting and undulating as her hands reached behind to her bra clasps.
‘Take it off, baby! Take it all off!’ Brandon drooled, sounding proud of his wife for the first time.
Carried away, Mae let her bra straps glide down her arms into one hand; she flung it to Brandon, grinning as he caught it, wrapping it like a stole around his neck. Then she undulated slowly, caressing her small, upturned breasts, massaging and squeezing until her nipples, large and pink, hardened and jutted. Then she moved to her panties.
‘Yeah! Yeah!’ yelled Scott.
Mae peeled them down and tossed them to Scott. Clad only in stockings and shoes now, she spread her long, slim legs and arched her pelvis, shimmying her hips slowly and deliberately, as if impaled onto some invisible presence.
Juliet had expected to be bored, turned off; women had never interested her before, especially not someone like Mousy Mae. The strength of her reaction and interest now surprised and startled her.
Her arms outstretched as if bound, she was “led” towards Brandon, playfully slapping his hands away when he tried to touch her. She ran her tongue lightly down from his scalp to almost reach his lips – then backed away, leaving him shuddering, begging for more.
She moved onto Scott, literally. Supporting a breast in each hand, she nuzzled his face between them; beads of sweat mingled, exchanged. Beside him, Juliet fought to keep the trepidation, the excitement off her face.
Then Mae moved onto her lap. She held Juliet by the shoulders, as if the latter woman might panic and bolt – which, Juliet admitted inwardly, was a possibility. She felt dizzy, swamped by the scent of Mae’s sweat, and further below, her arousal, mingling like heady perfume. Juliet’s face now sat where her husband’s had moments before, between Mae’s breasts, the woman’s nipples erect, and she felt powerless to keep her tongue from darting out, risking a taste.
But Mae pulled back, teasing, tantalising. Juliet wanted to will her hands to reach up, take control of the scenario, but they were like lead weights; besides, this was Mae’s scenario – and she was far exceeding Juliet’s expectations of her. Then with a start Juliet realised that Mae was straddling her thigh fully now; Mae’s pussy was furnace-hot, wet – like her own. Then Mae began rocking back and forth, a wanton bitch in heat.
Juliet barely heard the almost frenzied cheers from the men, swallowed up as she was by the shamelessly carnal act before her. Mae’s back arched, her hands roughly kneading her own breasts, eyes closed, mouth growling in a raw, feral manner – letting out a yelp as she climaxed, shuddering, not all of it a show for her audience, her thighs squeezing Juliet’s knee.
Mae, still reeling from the after waves of her orgasm, leaned against Juliet for support. Juliet held her, reeling, too, in her own way; she stole a glance below, to see the moist patch left on her thigh, resisting the unbidden, instinctive urge to taste it. Could tonight get any more bizarre?
BRANDON’s Scenario: Doctor’s Orders
You are a gay man pretending to be straight but impotent so that your doctor, SCOTT, whom you desire, will examine you intimately, “discover” you’re gay, and “instruct” you accordingly.
‘No way. No fucking way.’
They were having drinks again when Brandon, eager for his turn, called up his scenario. Juliet, curious as to what might shake the normally-unflappable man so, took the card from him.
And hardly finished reading it, before Mae, dressed once more, took the card from her, scanning it before asking, ‘So what’s the problem?’
Brandon had turned away, arms folded. ‘You read it, didn’t you?’
She passed it to Scott. ‘Yes, and?’
‘You didn’t look disgusted when I was humping Juliet.’
‘That’s different; you’re women.’
‘That’s bullshit,’ she sneered, ‘And you know it.’
Juliet glanced at Scott, appraising his reaction to the scenario, finding a quiet confidence in his eyes, a confidence now also reflected in Mae’s. She knew it wouldn’t be new to him – he’d told her long ago he was bisexual, though he hadn’t any male partners since before their engagement. But would Brandon participate? She thought it unlikely; all stereotypes about dancers aside, Brandon was as straight as a dye. Wasn’t he?
This was Juliet’s fault; the Game selected scenarios and players at random, but parameters could be tailored, excluding unwanted practices and pairings. But all she’d cared about was tailoring her own scenario. ‘Look, perhaps we should let Brandon default to another-‘
Then Mae turned on her. ‘Why? What happened to testing, expanding one’s boundaries – and having a good time doing it, too? All close friends here, right? Nothing to hide or fear, right?’ She finished her drink, glancing at Scott. ‘Do you have a problem with it, Scott?’
He glanced at her, then Brandon. ‘No.’
Brandon glared with hostility, as if betrayed, but Mae stepped between them, as if a fight might break out. ‘See? Scott’s man enough to at least try.’ She approached Brandon and gripped his arm, squeezing gently; Juliet could see a lot of her own manipulative looks and tones in the other woman now. ‘Either you’re 100% straight, or you’re not. If you are – which I’ve never believed-‘
‘I am straight!’
‘Oh? You mean you’ve never, not even once, thought what it would be like to touch another man, or have him touch you?’
Mae remained unconvinced; for that matter, so did Juliet, now. ‘Well, then, you should be secure enough in your sexuality not to be “corrupted” by what you and Scott might do. But if you aren’t, then you might learn something about yourself.’
He stared at her in sheer disbelief. ‘You’re my Goddamn wife.’
She shrugged nonchalantly. ‘And you’ve been fucking my Goddamn friend for six months now. It’s a little late in the Game for coyness.’
Juliet felt her stomach drop, especially when she glanced in Scott’s direction – and saw in his eyes that he already knew, and accepted it. Perhaps even thrilled to it; or was that just wishful thinking?
She began wondering if tonight had really been Mae’s and his first time.
‘Of course,’ Mae continued, her tones mocking, challenging. ‘If you find Scott too unattractive, or vice versa… ‘
‘And what seems to be the problem, Brandon?’
Brandon stood there, woebegone; Juliet reminded herself that he may have been goaded into it, but hardly coerced, any more than the rest of them. ‘I- I haven’t been able to… perform… with a woman.’
Scott, dressed in the prop white coat and sitting beside the kitchen table they’d dragged into the living room beforehand, glanced up from his imaginary clipboard. ‘ “Perform”?’
Brandon nodded, looking suitably embarrassed. ‘I- I can’t… get an erection with them.’
Juliet and Mae sat on the couch before them, rapt. In another context, they might have laughed at his remark as an obvious joke. Here, now, only the Games console made noise, appropriate hospital intercom background noise.
Scott set aside his “clipboard”, rising. ‘Well, we’d better have a look at you, then. If you’d like to strip off… ‘
Brandon’s flushed face almost screamed that he wouldn’t like, but did so anyway, revealing more and more of his smooth, toned body. Juliet found herself leaning forward with Mae when Brandon was down to his briefs, a pregnant pause before casting these aside, too. His cock bobbed into view, long and thick with a pronounced ridge, sprinkled at the base with black, crinkly hair. It wasn’t fully erect – Juliet suspected it’d gone soft during the previous argument – but wasn’t flaccid, either, hanging forward slightly from his balls.
Scott assayed him with affected dispassion. ‘And how long have you had this problem?’
‘Indeed?’ Scott, fully immersed in his role, reached down and took Brandon’s cock in his hands, gently holding and squeezing the shaft. Juliet held her breath at this, expecting Brandon to withdraw, or worse, strike out.
She did not expect to see his cock throb to life, pulsing into an erect state, in defiance of the look in his eyes. Nor did she expect Mae, still beside her, to whisper almost inaudibly, ‘Yes, that’s it,’ like a mother watching her baby take its first steps.
Scott looked into Brandon’s eyes and noted, ‘Nothing physically wrong with you, apparently.’ He reached down with his other hand and cupped Brandon’s balls, holding them delicately. At his sides, Brandon’s hands knotted into fists, but not in a threatening manner, at least not to anyone but his own feelings. ‘Tell me, Brandon, have you ever thought about other men? About having sex with them?’
Brandon found his eyes locked onto Mae’s. ‘Yes.’ It was as if his answer was meant as much for her as for his “doctor”, a simple truth.
Juliet glanced at Mae, gauging her reaction; it comprised many things, none of them including revulsion or rejection.
‘And what would you do with them?’
‘I’d- I’d fuck them. They’d fuck me.’
‘Yes. But intercourse is not your only option.’ He stopped fondling Brandon, bringing his hand up to show Brandon the webstrands of pre-come gathered on his fingers, undeniable. ‘Get on the examining table, on all fours.’
Brandon gasped, almost balked – but complied, as if possessed; Juliet understood that feeling. She ignored the itch between her legs, letting her thighs rub absently together like firewood.
Brandon was on the table, seemingly bracing himself for whatever the more experienced Scott had in store; his erection pointing towards the table. Scott, meanwhile, had opened a prop jar of Vaseline, and had smeared a fingerful between Brandon’s chestnut cheeks, making his “patient” start. Then, holding Brandon steady with one hand on his lower back, Scott brought the index finger of his other hand closer. ‘Try to relax. And enjoy.’
Juliet watched with bated breath as Scott’s finger penetrated Brandon, more easily than she’d expected. Brandon, sweating, closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, but otherwise showed no signs of discomfort. Before she realised it, she saw Mae rising to her feet and approaching silently for a better look. Like a mouse, Juliet followed.
Closer now, she saw Scott’s finger buried to the hilt, gently drawing in and out and making circular motions; Brandon’s lower half seemed to move in the same way, and he was panting to himself, lost in the swirl of the sensations induced.
Now Scott, with his finger still inserted, reached under Brandon with his other hand, grasping his cock again, stroking it; Brandon’s body, pulled irresistibly into two directions of pleasure, shuddered like a boat in a squall. All were silent, the medical pretence cast aside, having done its work in escorting the performers towards their denouement.
Then Brandon cried out, his whole body quivering. Scott continued his twin assault, even after Brandon started ejaculating. Brandon’s fingers turned pink pressing into the tabletop as he groaned and writhed, shot after shot spurting from his cock, spattering upon the pine finish of the table in creamy white bullets. His head shook as if denying what had happened, what was happening. And how it happened.
But it was hardly deniable now.
Juliet had escaped to the bathroom, desperately groping for the hem of her skirt, lifting it up and sending her other hand down the front of her knickers, working deft fingers through her bush to find her clitoris, engorged, hungry, hungry for her touch.
Her eyes stared into the mirror, seeing not herself, but her vain, chauvinistic lover reduced to a quivering mass by her doormat husband. Seeing her doormat husband fucking her mousy friend. Seeing her mousy friend then perform an intense, seductive dance, rubbing her pussy to orgasm against Juliet’s thigh. She felt as if she was on a helter-skelter, not knowing where it would end up, or if it would end at all.
Her orgasm came quickly, easily; after tonight’s stimulation, she’d hardly needed to touch herself. And she wasted little time in straightening herself out, to return to the living room and get her own, customised scenario going.
The console had already printed up her scenario, and was now playing music, kettle drums pounding some primitive, hypnotic beat. The others had all left the room. Were they changing for her benefit? Did they know what was planned for them?
Then she read her card:
JULIET’s Scenario: Bound for Glory
You are a proud princess captured by slavers, and purchased by the Barbarian Queen MAE, aided by her servants BRANDON and STEPHEN. You will be stripped, appraised for your value, caned for your insolence, then bound and tamed into serving your new Mistress.
‘What the hell-‘
Juliet looked up, and her heart stopped.
Mae stood there, clad in glistening black leather and silver studs, her breasts scarcely confined in a tightly laced basque, her legs encased in thigh-length boots. The dark thatch of her pubis was left bare, but appeared natural that way, and in her hands she carried a riding crop as if born to it. Scott and Brandon flanked her, both nude but for studded leather collars around their necks; each carried handcuffs or chains.
Juliet overcame her shock as to protest, ‘I’m supposed to be wearing those, playing the Barbarian Queen!’
‘Oh?’ Mae affected concern. ‘Is that what it says on your card?’
Juliet flung it away. ‘It’s been deliberately changed!’
Mae took a step forward, lips pursed in mock sympathy, as if correcting a child’s misconceptions. ‘You mean, from what you secretly preset for yourself? Scott examined the console when you’d left the room. Oh, Julie, of all of us, you should know there’s no challenge in playing a part that doesn’t intimidate, even frighten you.’
Juliet laughed nervously. ‘Look, we’ll set it at random again, select another-‘
‘We all agreed to enact the scenarios given us,’ Scott reminded her, with obvious relish.
Brandon was nursing a grin and an erection, neither appearing to have lost their potency from his recent experience. ‘Remember, girl? There’s a performer inside each of us. Where’s yours?’
They’d all tested, then exceeded their own boundaries. Especially Mae; Juliet stared at her with undisguised admiration. ‘You bitch.’
Mae grinned back, unoffended. ‘I learned from an expert.’ Then she dropped her grin, pointing the crop at Julie. ‘Strip… slave.’
Juliet conceded she’d been checkmated; she saw no escape. And for her pussy, thrilled with a sweet new submissive pleasure, she saw no need for escape. Her shoes were kicked aside; her skirt, blouse, bra and knickers quickly followed.
Mae’s eyes boldly scrutinised her nude body, admirably maintaining her new character. ‘Stand to attention, hands on head.’
Juliet obeyed, feeling herself blush uncontrollably, as her breasts, with their dark peaked nipples, and her blondly tufted bush of pubic hair, were open to their examination. She was wet, and thought she’d swoon as they approached, the men standing back while their “queen” slowly circled her new possession, inspecting Juliet like a beast at market. Juliet trembled as Mae’s fingers lightly ran over every part of Juliet’s body, from head to toe, and she closed her eyes when she felt Mae’s fingers near her pubis. Please touch me there, she prayed.
Instead Mae said, ‘Bend over, spread your cheeks.’
Barely suppressing the thrill shooting through her, Juliet complied, feeling the cool air invade her exposed sex. The blood rushing to her head, she half-watched Mae circle behind, then stop, squeezing Juliet’s now-taut cheeks before inserting one finger, then two, into Juliet’s hot, wet channel. Juliet moaned, tightening around the intruders.
‘Quiet, slave,’ Mae admonished. Juliet stifled a groan of frustration as Mae withdrew again; there was the sound of fingers being licked. ‘Tasty. Rise.’
Juliet did so, sweeping the hair from her face and affecting modesty by covering her breasts and bush. Mae smiled at this futile display. ‘Not a bad purchase. But can she fuck?’
‘ ‘Course I can,’ Juliet protested, remembering “insolence” was expected from her character.
Swiftly Mae reached out and grasped Juliet by the neck, bending her over again and driving a dozen hard, stinging blows of her crop onto Juliet’s quivering bottom. ‘My slaves always address me as “Mistress”! Understand?’
Released, Juliet straightened up, panting, hot waves of pleasure radiating from her cheeks, almost tearfully replying, ‘Y-yes, Mistress!’
Mae seemed satisfied with her compliance, then turned to her other “slaves”. ‘Well?’
Brandon spoke first. ‘She’s not bad.’
‘A bit selfish, though.’ Scott added. ‘Always thinking of herself.’
‘Oh? Then we must improve her. Proceed as planned.’
Swiftly, eagerly they advanced upon an equally eager Juliet, Brandon cuffing her wrists before her, Scott attaching a slave collar, linked to one end of a chain, onto her neck, feeding the other end to Mae. Then Scott lay down, legs spread, his erection pointing towards the ceiling, while Brandon guided Juliet down on all fours between Scott’s thighs.
Her bound hands pressing into the carpet just beneath Scott’s balls, Juliet took Scott’s cock into her mouth. He tasted salty, familiar, and she could feel him tighten as she rose and fell, her breasts aching as they pendulated beneath her, the hot wetness spilling out from her sex. She arched her back and presented Brandon with a view of full, rounded bottom, pictured the pink stripes of her punishment across her flesh.
Then Brandon was upon her, his cock pressing urgently between her legs. She lifted her buttocks higher until he found her pussy, plunging in and making her cry out with her mouth still around Scott. Brandon gripped her sides, riding her, forcing her to adopt the same rhythm while servicing Scott. She felt Scott tense, readied herself as he came, swallowing deeply and confidently.
With her mouth still enveloping Scott, Juliet’s attention was eclipsed by the waves of pleasure running over and through her, courtesy of Brandon’s thrusts, while Mae kept just enough pull on Juliet’s chain to maintain a constant reminder of her presence. When Brandon finally came, Juliet used her muscles to milk him of every drop.
Exhausted, Juliet removed the men from her various orifices and closed her eyes, collecting saliva again in her mouth. Then her chain was tugged.
Mae was now sitting on a chair before her. ‘No rest yet, slave. Crawl over here.’
Smiling, Juliet obeyed.
‘Worship me.’ Mae said simply.
Juliet lowered to Mae’s feet, kissing, licking every toe, every line, curve.
Then she heard Jill say, almost sadly. ‘No, no, no.’
Juliet looked up to see Mae part her thighs and arch her pelvis, using her fingertips to open the lips of her sex, an exquisite oval shape of frilled flesh with a deep pink inner lining, moist with milky dew, her clitoris protruding from the folds of flesh encasing it like a foreskin.
‘Now get going,’ Mae breathed. ‘And be convincing.’
Juliet rose and leaned closer, taking in the familiar musk, then buried her face into the other woman, tasting, sucking, wishing her hands were unbound to caress her new lover, her new mistress. At her ministrations, Mae growled and shook in place, digging her nails into Juliet’s scalp. Juliet had acquired the Game for many reasons, but not to find herself like this. Still, she remained in her newest, most demanding and rewarding role, and continued her veneration, like the devoted slave she was.