Monica's Games 2.24
by Richard Alexander (Gromets Plaza)
(story continues from Monica's Games 2.23)
Chapter Twenty Four: Question and Answer
Day Five
Morning Event: The Quiz
White Team: Monica, Leila and Emma
Black Team: Megan, Debra and Zara
Points at Stake: 15
Start Score: White Team: 30 Black Team: 26
It had been a long afternoon. I knew I could get free from the predicament Monica had left me in. I knew one of the girls would take pity on me. They had played their little games as I lay helpless and bound in the garden, with Trish taking her time before Mary took over. I lay there sweating in the late afternoon sun as I did my duty. Monica had forbidden me to misbehave with her, but it seemed the others saw it as an evidently quite acceptable way to finish off what appeared to have been a rather testing day.
Leila and Emma had tried to tease me into a competition to identify who was sitting on my face first. I won the game when Emma could not hold in her squeal of climax. After that there was no point in Leila even trying, and she had climaxed with the unashamed enthusiasm of youth, her shrill moans fortunately getting lost in the surrounding foliage.
“I’m sure Jill will set you free,” Leila whispered, kissing me warmly on the mouth after she had removed the vibrator that had been locked inside her for many hours.
A few minutes later I heard Jillian’s familiar voice.
“Well well, what have we here? A black plastic package, hmmm?” I felt the weight of her as she sat astride my chest, her husky voice close to my head. “We have to stop meeting like this.”
“I know it was you in the dungeon the other day,” I countered.
“Oh do you?” Her tone was teasing. “Think we know everything now, do we? Dear me. Strange how you keep getting yourself into these situations. Most careless of you.”
“At least I haven’t had a vibrator stuck inside me all day,” I laughed. She sighed.
“Yes, It has been most unfortunate. Not a good day.”
“Except for you. You won. Congratulations, Jill.”
“Thank you. But it wasn’t enough. We’re barely ahead on points now. All the advantage we had has been lost.”
“Only through devious means.”
“Doesn’t matter. A win is a win in Mistress Lynx’s eyes.”
“And I have to get ready for tomorrow’s event.”
“Why? I thought you’d done everything you had to do?”
“I had, until your friends decided to go swimming with equipment that was not designed to be waterproof.”
“So you have to dry them out and fix them up for tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“So Mistress Lynx would be really pissed off if things weren’t ready?”
“Yes. Stop teasing me Jill. Monica would be even more pissed off.”
“But her very instructions were that we should not set you free.”
“Aw Jill!” I whined.
“This is such a dilemma… What am I to do? Maybe something will come to me, hmm?”
I smelt the musky scent of pussy and felt the smooth swollen flesh touching my lips. My tongue explored the warm wetness, locating the plastic-coated cable running through the centre of her clit, which had remained shaven since the night Monica had done a public hair removal as part of the net trial. Jill moaned softly.
“Ohhh…that’s nice… oh God!” I paused for breath. “Don’t stop! Ohhh god, here it comes!” She cried out and shifted her weight so that her pussy almost suffocated me as I sucked hard and she squirmed and cried out, bending forward and panting hoarsely while I licked and bit and tried to finish her off as quickly as possible.
She had made no effort to get the key in the lock, and it was only some minutes later when she had recovered that she achieved this. I felt the slick object slip out on to the flesh of my neck as Jillian gave a long drawn-out exhalation of relief.
“Oh God, you have no idea what that feels like. It was nice in for a while, but it is so nice to have it out.”
“It’s a shame to have a pussy and have it constantly filled,” I mocked, forgetting momentarily my position.”
“How true,” she agreed with what I took to be a rather forced sigh. “Yes, we girls are like that. Always need something inside.” Then she was rubbing the area where Mister Willy was hard and flat under the layers of plastic that imprisoned me. I felt the pressure of scissors and suddenly cool air rushed inside the lower regions of my plastic prison. More significantly, slender fingers prised Mister Willy free so that he popped up like a periscope.
“Looks like I’ll have to do it again,” she said. “This must make it about six one to me, do you think?” She was toying with me, but there was precious little I could do about it.
“I didn’t realise there was a competition,” I said, trying to maintain my bravado, but feeling as horny as hell. When she ran her fingernails down my dick I nearly came on the spot.
“I will claim this as another win for me,” she said, squirming down my body and then insinuating herself over Mister Willy. This time it was my turn to gasp and sigh with the pleasure that came with being enveloped in the warm wetness that was Jill’s love passage.
“Is that nice?” she purred.
“It’s wonderful,” I panted, trying to thrust against her weight.
“Good, I’m glad you’ve had a pleasant time. But you must understand we girls are not just playthings to be used and disposed of.” I could hear the laughter in her voice, then my pleasure turned to dismay as she abruptly hoisted herself off me and stood up.
“Jill?” Being blindfolded meant I could only read so much into a voice. “What are you doing? Whatever I said, I didn’t mean it.” I knew this was the start of a death spiral in male-female conversation.
“Too bad. Too late, Mister. I’m sorry, but I’ve had as much of you as I can handle. I’m only a girl. You’re too much for me!” She laughed. “It’s a shame I can’t set you free. Those are Monica’s orders. But I do sympathise with your predicament. However, perhaps if you could free yourself…?” I felt the cold steel of the scissors slipped into the hole she had cut. “I will be able to truthfully say that you were still bound up when I left you. Enjoy your evening.” I felt the soft touch as she kissed me on the mouth. I tried to return the favour but she was gone, and I was left slowly melting in the garden.
* * *
It had taken me a long time to free myself. Getting the scissors the right way round, then having them slip out of my fingers, then having to do all manner of contortions to grab hold of them again took quite a while. The polythene cocoon was running with sweat and as I raised my feet in the air to make the scissors slide back I felt a long trickle of liquid run up my back towards my neck.
I finally managed to get the scissors reversed and cut through the duct tape binding my wrists to my body, and from that point on the rest was relatively easy. I slit the plastic up the front and prised the tape off my eyes, blinking in the afternoon sun. I sat up in time to see Jill rise from the nearby bench where she had been sitting and watching me all the time. She gave me an ironic smile but her eyes sparkled.
“Thanks for the entertainment. And for the other thing. It was fun. Better go shower, and get to work, huh? Don’t want to upset the game for tomorrow!”
I watched the swing of her white skirt as she walked back to the house and thought what a sexy piece of work she was, but at the same time that it came naturally, and she never flaunted it outside of work. It was women like Jill that made me feel so inadequate at times…
* * *
“Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm Trivia welcome to Mistress Lynx!”
Shawnee’s introduction for the start of the Trivia quiz was enthusiastic in it’s intent but fell somewhat flat when the only applause came from Rashid and Mohammed. This was to be the big cerebral clash between the teams, a kind of Trivial Pursuit mixed with every quiz show you’d ever seen on the box. It was the brainchild of Mohammed and had been suitably embellished by Mistress Lynx, and made to work by yours truly. These events with a full cast were a strain, particularly when there was so much preparation.
In this instance, all the girls were participating, to one degree or another. Shawnee and Dianne were given much more decorative roles, since they had stayed up to help me for much of the night. Shawnee was the ‘questions girl’, the one to pick the question from the multiple pigeon holed cabinet on the end block wall of the room we occupied in the Citadel. Shawnee was delighted with this role, for she again got to wear the white thigh boots she had worn in the pony cart race, but with more effect. True, she remained hobbled, as was appropriate, but she had borrowed Trish’s leather miniskirt and matching bra with the nipple cut-outs. It was too small for Shawnee’s ample figure and her breasts bulged at the edges. Shawnee didn’t care, though, as she flaunted herself like a peacock, her dark hair in pigtails each secured with a white ribbon. She looked sensational, and I knew the rest of the girls would be seriously pissed off if she tried to flaunt it once too often in their direction.
Shawnee’s counterpart, Dianne, was the ‘score girl’, in charge of the scoreboard, which in this instance was a projection screen she had rigged up connected to her laptop computer. I had wanted a simple blackboard, but no, Dianne had to have everything electronic, and to be fair, she had made a pretty impressive programme. When Shawnee selected the question, it would be in the form of a number, which Dianne would key in for the question to be displayed on screen. Dianne was dressed in a skin-tight black latex catsuit, with a hood that had a hole at the back for her long plait to dangle through. She wore matching latex gloves and patent leather boots that laced up her shins over the top of the latex. She looked comfortable in such clothing, and at home with her computer, as her gloved fingers flashed over the keys.
We were in the largest of the rooms in the warehouse that was the Citadel. The walls were two levels high, above which the roof of the warehouse proper could just be made out beyond the powerful lights that illuminated every detail of the room like a stage set. The room itself was about ten metres square. It was spacious and ideal for the show that was to go on. I had built a low stage at one end, just big enough to take three comfortable chairs for Mohammed, Rashid and Mistress Lynx. And here they sat, looking like Roman emperors, despite the fact that the two men were looking relaxed in jeans and silk shirts, while Mistress Lynx remained resplendent in her brown leather dress.
Running the length of the room were four heavy chains, two lying on the floor around five metres apart, and two more at three metres immediately above the floor ones. The upper ones I had installed the previous night with the help of Shawnee. They were attached to the end walls with heavy anchor bolts and drawn taut by turnbuckles. Under one of these chains stood the White Team – Monica, Leila and Emma, on the left of the Gang of Three, facing the centre of the room. Opposite them, facing them, Megan, Zara and Debbie stood under the second chain. The members of both teams were naked, their legs spread and tied to the floor chain, their arms raised high in star shape, cuffed wrists joined to each adjacent member by a rope threaded through a mid-link in the chain. The format had been stipulated by Mistress Lynx, and she had supervised the bondage that afternoon. She had left some slack in the ropes – enough so that one girl could tug and react to whatever treatment she received, with a consequent effect on her neighbour(s).
Across the end of the room opposite the stage was another floor chain and another high level one above it. Under this were secured the remainder of the girls in identical fashion – Trish, Mary and Jillian, then Elizabeth, Kris and Marilyn – making the third side of the captive wall. These six were also naked, and all twelve girls wore the same waist and crotch cables they had done the previous day, with matching vibrators well-secured in their pussies. I had spent half the night drying out and reassembling five of them, thanks to the little episode at Southbank Beach.
The difference in the accessories from the previous day was that all the vibrators were now manually controlled by means of wires linked to two TENS units which Leon and I would control from our seats in the centre of the three-sided line of prisoners. We had been designated the ‘care givers’, which would alternately mean the giving of pleasure or pain to the contestants, depending on whether they answered the questions correctly or not. For this role we wore leather pants and sleeveless vests, with mine – being in white – having been specially made for me, since it was not a stock item in the Bilboes wardrobe. So too with the white leather discipline helmet I was obliged to wear. It had large eyeholes and a nose piece, with a zippered mouth. Leon wore a matching one in black. It was evident that the Zubair brothers wanted to see a bit of male domination coming in to play, which was fair enough, except that Mistress Lynx insisted we be gagged under the hood, so that we could not whisper the answers to the contestants.
There was a certain amount of logic to this, for all the contestants were also gagged, with a loosely-fitted but large rubber bit gag. These were in fact secured by lengths of elastic, which enabled them to be pulled free of the mouth without the tiresome need to undo buckles and suchlike, for as long as the wearer could not get her hand to the gag, they were impossible to force out with the tongue. It was the role of Leon and I to remove these gags to permit an answer, when required.
The rules were simple. The primary teams of three were Monica, Leila and Emma for Bilboes, and Megan, Zara and Debbie for the Citadel. Monica and Megan’s presence had been obligatory, while the other four had been chosen by ballot. It had not been a good choice for us, for we generally recognised that – Monica aside – Jill was the brainiest and Mary had the best general knowledge, and these two, along with Trish, now formed part of the ‘audience’. The primary team members would be asked a question in turn. They could pick the question from one of five categories – Art and Literature, History, Geography, Science, and Bondage. They could then nominate the degree of difficulty of the question – from a no-brainer one point up to a pretty hard five-pointer. Get this last one wrong and they would receive five strokes of the flogger. Get it right, and it was five minutes on the vibrator. Ten rounds, which meant each contestant had to answer two questions from each category. Fall behind in the points and you were obliged to go for the harder questions, which could mean a spiral into oblivion and a very sore arse.
But we had also arranged for audience participation, and the other six girls, strung out between the two primary teams, had the opportunity to answer any incorrect questions in an open slather. Each pair of nipples had a silver chain slung between two clips firmly gripping the pink tips, and on each chain was a small bell. The three bells for the white team sounded different from the three for the black team. All any girl had to do if she knew the answer was to make her bell ring. I thought this was particularly devious, for the bells were not light affairs, and having to jiggle your tits to make the bell ring was not without further discomfort. A girl from the audience with the right answer only scored half points, to prevent them hogging the main team’s glory. Half the points, half the pleasure, half the pain.
And so it was that we now watched the two screens, which had been set up with two projectors so that the twelve captives could see one in front of the stage, and the Gang of Three could see individual monitors which Dianne had fetched down from the computer room, and which were placed on a long table in front of the stage.
Mistress Lynx stood up from her central chair.
“Ladies, you know the rules. Ten rounds, two of each category. Winning sponsor gets to have his way with the losing slave.”
Hullo, I thought. This was a twist in the rules. This meant that if Bilboes lost, Rashid would have a little sport with Shawnee, and Mohammed with Dianne if the Citadel lost. To the victor the spoils. I saw Shawnee’s eyes light up and she licked her lips at the prospect of getting up close and personal with the handsome Rashid. I also detected a confused look from both Monica and Megan, for it was common knowledge that they had been getting a good servicing on the side, and the thought of being on the winning team but having to give up this perk for a slave was clearly both disconcerting and confusing. If Monica won, it meant that Mohammed would be elsewhere than with Monica, thus she was in potentially two minds as to whether to share him or not. I had to hand it to Mistress Lynx, for she was a maestro of human psychology, with these little nuances surfacing just when you least expected them. It was a good job the two slaves couldn’t materially influence the outcome, for who knew what might have taken place.
“Megan has won the toss and will field the first question,” Mistress Lynx announced. “The first round will be geography. Choose the value of your question, Megan.” Megan mouthed something unintelligible around the big rubber bit jammed between her jaws. “Leon, for God’s sake, do your job! Remove Megan’s gag!” Leon, no doubt wishing he could remove his own walked over to Megan and pulled the bit from her mouth. She swallowed and announced:
“Five points, please Mistress.”
Shawnee sachéd up to the pigeon holes, wiggling her arse in the miniskirt and showing off the fact that she was at least having a cameo role, while all her elders and betters were in some form of embarrassing restraint. The questions were sorted by category across the top and degree of difficulty down the side. She slid her hand into the 5-point geography and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Opening it she read “G-7”. Dianne punched in the code and the question popped up on the screen.
‘Which U.S. city has an exhibit of the original Streetcar Named Desire?’ There followed four options. Megan was clearly undecided. It was one of those ones where you either know or don’t know, and she didn’t.
“Houston,” she said tentatively.
“Barp!” went the computer as Dianne input the choice.
“Oh dear,” said Mistress Lynx with a smile. “No points for Megan. But five strokes. Steven, do your stuff.”
I was not keen on this aspect. It was the one area of life at Bilboes that I was just a tad uncomfortable with. I slipped the gag back between her teeth and picked up the flogger, then positioning myself behind the milky white cheeks that Megan displayed, I let her have it with the first stroke. Megan shuddered.
“What the hell was that?” Mistress Lynx demanded. “Do it properly, or you’ll end up taking her punishment from me – and I’ll give her a going over as well! Put your shoulder into it this time. And that first little tap doesn’t count!”
Thus I got my riding instructions for the first round, and was obliged to give Megan no quarter. I knew Leon would be doing the same to the Bilboes team, and whether pleasure or pain, the distracting effect would be the same. Megan grunted with each thwack, but kept her self control. Breathing heavily, I sat down again.
“All right, back row, who knows the answer?”
There was a jiggling from Mary and Kris as both shook their bodies to make the bells ring on the chain clipped between their nipples. The blonde appeared to manage it a second ahead of Mary.
“Kris?”
“New Orleans, Mistress.” Yes, well she was American. She would know that, I thought unfairly.
“Very good,” said Mistress Lynx. “Two and a half points to the Black Team and Kris gets two and a half minutes of vibrating fun. But you may participate while you play, Kris. I’m sure you can climax and tell us more correct answers at the same time. Steven, dial up the good vibes.”
Leon put the bit gag back while I selected Kris’s switch and dialled up two and a half minutes worth. A slow smile spread on Kris’s face, visible despite the rubber bit she was clamped on to. She struggled and swayed from side to side, tugging on the ropes attaching her to Elizabeth and Marilyn. As Kris pulled hard down on her wrist ropes, Elizabeth’s and Marilyn’s adjacent arms rose like marionettes. It was all quite fun, I thought, but my musings were interrupted by Mistress Lynx again.
“Monica! Your choice?” I was on my feet again, removing the gag from her mouth. She smiled at me – a smile that might have been confident, secretive, brazen, or just plain apprehensive. Monica was a good poker player.
“Four points, please Mistress.”
Shawnee did her thing and Dianne popped the question up on the screen:
‘Which is the main river in the Republic of Ireland’
“The Shannon,” said Monica, the smile remaining until I made her open up and receive the bit again.
The computer gave the equivalent of the jackpot music from a slot machine, and Leon reluctantly set the vibrations for four minutes, clearly disappointed he did not get the chance to demonstrate his skills with the flogger on Monica. After what she had done to him only a few weeks previously, giving him a sound thrashing in front of the entire Citadel staff, I was sure he would have loved to exact his revenge.
Unfortunately for our team, this was to be a rare high point in the round. Thereafter Leila and Emma, both being overambitious in following Monica’s lead in going for four points, missed their questions, and Leon at least had the satisfaction in giving them four very hearty thrashes while they jerked in their ropes and made their fellow team members do sympathetic movements as well. At the same time Zara missed her question for four, and I was allowed a little revenge for some of the ignominy she had subjected me to in the desert in Oman. Debbie proved to be a bit of a smart cookie by identifying that the Malay Sea was actually part of the Pacific Ocean. The residue of the missed questions was left to Jill, Mary and Marilyn to pick up, and at the end of the first round the teams were level.
The second round was on history, and failures by Monica and Leila saw Leon wielding the flogger in a transportation of delight, while the pair grunted in protest with each blow. The questions they had picked were only worth three points each, and while Mary and Jill managed to pick up the pieces, more importantly, Megan, Zara and Debbie were all vibrating happily at the end of the round. Having Mary and Jill as back up for middle-rating questions was not going to be good enough, and we found ourselves five points adrift at the end of that round.
The third round of Art and Literature saw us lose a further point, for while all contestants were successful, and neither Leon nor I had to resort to the flogger, Leila and Emma only felt confident enough to attempt two-pointers, which really wasn’t much better than Mary and Jill picking up four pointers on the second attempt. Except in this case nobody got hurt.
The entertainment round finally saw us make some headway. Missed four-pointers by Monica, Zara and Debbie kept both Leon and I active, and it was only two recoveries by Elizabeth that stopped the round being a total disaster for the Black team. By the end of this round we were down 31 – 36, and still easily within striking distance.
The fifth round was a specialist one on bondage, and I knew this would be a point of pride with both teams, and as such there would be nothing but five-pointers chosen here. It was going to be a make or break round, with reputations on the line. I was almost right. I had forgotten about Zara, who only went for three points, but who obviously knew about a whitehead gag when the chips were down. Megan and Debbie both got fives, as did Monica, but disaster struck when Leila could not remember that John Norman had written the Gor series of books, and Emma did not associate John Willie with being named after a part of the body. Monica was ropable. I could tell that from her body language, and it was a good thing she was in fact roped. Trish managed to save the day with half points for the questions, but the damage had been done. I was sure that Monica herself would have taken over from Leon and given her two junior members a further thrashing, as they danced at the end of their bonds trying to avoid the flailing thongs of the flogger and crying out as best they could against the rubber bars jammed in their mouths.
At the end of round five, the halfway mark, we were eight points adrift, and we were never to improve after this. With the pressure on, Monica was forced to take more risks herself, some of which did not come off, while Megan, Debbie and Zara plumped for less onerous questions that would maintain their lead. Zara managed four in a row, which kept her vibrator going and saw her dissolve into an orgasm halfway through the eight round. I wondered whether her failure to score in the ninth was simply to gain respite, knowing the game was in the bag.
By the end of the ninth round, the score was eighty two to seventy, and while a good bondage round would have possibly got us home, it would have needed a disaster on the part of Megan’s team to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. It didn’t happen, for Megan’s team scored two fives and a four, with one of the five’s being sufficient to push Megan over the edge, as she swayed and grunted in her bonds, now freed of the pressure of maintaining control once her last question had been answered. Monica gained a further five points, but again Leila and Emma fell to nerves and suffered further at the hands of Leon and his flogger. Both were in tears by that time, not so much from the pain, but from the knowledge that they had failed Monica, and that the lashings they had received may well not be their last.
The final score of 96 to 80 was pretty emphatic, and there was little point in complaining that we did not have our most experienced team. Not that any of us could complain, of course, except Shawnee, and she was nearly beside herself at the prospect of an anticipated night with Rashid.
I later looked at the statistics for the evening, as printed out by Dianne from her records on the laptop. The highest individual scores, which of course equated to time spent vibrating off to the land of the Big O, were Debbie with 28, Megan 27, and Monica 25. The big losers were Leila (20 strokes), Emma (17) and also Monica with 16. Mary had done the best of the back ups with ten vibrating minutes, but that was little comfort for our team. More specifically, we had blown the fifteen-point overall lead we had had at the end of the third day, and were now faced with an eleven point deficit.
As Mistress Lynx unlocked the belts and cuffs of the Black Team, we could do little but wait with trepidation as to what was going to happen next. There were a pile of towelling robes in the corner – six, to be exact, and these disappeared wrapped around Megan’s team as they departed.
“You’re a sorry lot,” said Mistress Lynx scornfully. “Monica, I’m utterly disappointed in your girls in the bondage section. Don’t you even teach them the basics? Doesn’t anybody ready the classics any more?” I reckoned Monica would be teaching Leila and Emma a few things, and reading them the riot act. I think that was something to the effect of what Monica intended as she garbled something incoherent around the rubber bit in her mouth, but the tone of her voice said it all. Leila and Emma visibly quailed, but we all knew we would have further trials to endure before the pair got their desserts from Monica.
“Let’s deal with these two first,” said Mistress Lynx, eyeing up Shawnee and me. I got the treatment from her, and it was obvious that unlike Leon, my discipline helmet, with it’s integral ball gag, was going to stay in place a while longer. With practised hands she bound my wrists together behind me, palm to palm, cinching them tight with the tail of the sashcord she used. Then there were more ropes above my elbows, pulling them in. She stopped short of making them touch, thank God, for I knew I did not have the flexibility of some of the female bodies present that could cope with this sort of thing in their sleep and wake up refreshed.
Then there was more rope, about my ankles and above my knees. I was made to sit bent over on the edge of the stage, where further turns of cord went behind my knees and round my torso under my armpits, before being cinched between my legs and body. I was clearly going nowhere, for I could barely move, being obliged to sit there staring at the world through the holes in my hood.
Shawnee was next, as Mohammed and Rashid manhandled one of the armchairs they had been sitting in. Shawnee watched them with what was open disappointment, for it was obvious that far from sharing a bed with Rashid, she was going to be slave to his whims there and then – well, soon, in any case. Her ankles were spread and tied to the back legs of the big leather chair, and her wrists were bound in front, before she was bent forward and the tails on her wrist ropes were attached to the front legs of the chair. The short leather shirt rode up over her buttocks, exposing a sufficient area of taut flesh between the tops of her thigh boots and the skirt, such that Mistress Lynx could not resist running her hand up between Shawnee’s thighs, drawing forth a long sigh from the restrained girl. Mistress Lynx then turned her attention to the unhappy half dozen still standing in star position under the chains criss-crossing the room.
She walked across to where Megan’s team had removed their vibrators when they had immersed themselves in the fluffy robes. She picked up one and slipped it off the cable that passed though the retaining eye on the base. Deliberately she walked across to Monica, and around behind her, before pulling aside the cable running up between Monica’s cheeks and sliding the vibrator into her back passage. Monica grunted and struggled in her ropes.
“I’d stop that if I were you,” Mistress Lynx said sternly. “As you will be able to tell, Monica, this little toy is not held in place by that cable, which runs alongside the base. A little effort from you and it will slip out quite easily. That would be a bad thing.” She paused for emphasis on the word. “Verrry bad. You see, it is now coming up to seven o’clock. I am going to come back here in a couple of hours. If I find any vibrators on the ground, I will give that person six strokes with a cane, then they can try for a further hour of control. I am so disappointed in your team. You can stay here all night if necessary.” Monica shook her head and made incoherent noises of protest, but Mistress Lynx was unmoved, as she collected the remaining vibrators, removed them from their cables, and deliberately inserted them up the arses of Leila, and Emma, then the group of Mary, Jill and Trish.
“I think Mohammed and I could do with a little pre-dinner drink,” said Mistress Lynx, patting Trish’s backside. “But perhaps one final adjustment, in order to give Rashid a little privacy.” She picked up a roll of duct tape and proceeded to tape the girl’s eyes closed, before doing the same for me. I listened to the footsteps fade and the door close, as I sat there in my private darkness.
Nearby, also on the stage, I sensed movement and heard Shawnee. We all heard Shawnee, in fact. Shawnee was one of those slaves who ended up gagged half the time simply because she didn’t know when to shut up. Shawnee was a champion talker, and a talker of rubbish in many cases, if Monica was to be believed. I thought this was unfair, for Shawnee was far from a dumb bunny, given her part time studies at university that she somehow managed to combine with her more stringently restrained pastimes.
Shawnee reminded me of Christina, Warren’s slave, with whom I had dallied once or twice, and whom each time had had to be thoroughly gagged in order that she did not shout the house down. This now seemed to be Shawnee’s intention, as we were treated to a running commentary on what was going on – or at least the sensations that were coming out of it. Of course, we had to use our imaginations a bit, but that wasn’t too hard.
“Ohhhh! Ooo, you’re big – oh! Oh Jesus! Aarrrhhh!” At this stage there came a lot of panting and a series of “Ohgod!’s”, becoming louder and rising in pitch. I could hear Rashid for a little while, then things changed, and Shawnee abruptly said: “Oh Jesus! What? What are you doing? Ohhh – no – urf! Mmph!”
It was pretty obvious that even Rashid found Shawnee distracting, and whatever gag he had used had quelled her exclamations into a series of snorting grunts that matched the bumping of the back chair legs on the timber stage. Rashid’s own grunts rose, but not as far or as fast as Shawnee’s rapid muffled screams, which shot up an octave all of a sudden, matched by an urgent series of grunts from Rashid. Shawnee finally succumbed to a long drawn-out nasal howl that echoed around the block walls, before subsiding into a series of snorting gasps for breath.
There was the sound of a zipper being done up, while Shawnee was still coming back to earth in a series of moans that I took to be expressions of extreme satisfaction. Footsteps followed, off the stage and then a few paces beyond. They stopped at that point and I was puzzled as to the reason, until there was an abrupt exclamation from Monica.
“Gaarhh! Ur id oggh! Ngoh!”
More exclamations followed from the other girls, and it dawned on me that Rashid had turned on the vibrators that had been operating during the quiz. That was going to make life very difficult for them to retain the dildos jammed in their rears. I heard Rashid laugh. It was a simple, unpretentious laugh. He found the whole situation very funny, and I suppose it was, unless you were likely to have your arse whipped if you did not retain a grip with those very same muscles.
“It’s been a very enjoyable evening. Thank you Shawnee – you are a credit to your gender. And thank you ladies – and Steven – it has all been great fun. I wish you all a very pleasant evening.” The footsteps faded and the door opened, then closed to the sound of hoarse gasps and strained noises from behind six gags.
* * *
27.10.03
story continues in Monica's Games 2.25
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