Greta's Game Boxed Set

by K. C. Silkwood

  “Of course you can. Simply remove your bra, take a trip to the ladies’ room, then come back again.”

  Dana fingered the top button of her blouse, which was fastened all the way to her throat. She had a decent body, but had never been comfortable showing it off. In fact, she didn’t even own a bikini and wore conservative one-piece swim suits instead.

  “I d-don’t think I can do it,” she finally whispered.

  “That’s fine. Simply pay back the forty thousand, then.”

  “But I can’t do that either! I told you, I used it to pay off my credit cards!”

  Greta shrugged. “Then I believe the choice is clear, my darling.”

  Tears sprang up in the corners of Dana’s eyes. What choice did she have? Well, it could be worse. Greta could’ve forced her to walk around topless instead. She glanced down at her blouse. The white fabric was semi-sheer, and her dark nipples would show plainly through it. But she was trapped, and Greta knew it. The girl had been facing the room, but now she slid over to the chair beside Greta’s so that her back was to the other diners. Then she fumbled with the top button of her blouse, her nervous fingers unable to do the simplest task.

  “Let me help you, dear,” Greta offered, scooting even closer.

  “No, I’m—”

  “Oh, it’s no trouble at all.” Greta pinched the top button between two of her bright red nails and pulled, breaking the flimsy thread and yanking it right off. Dana gasped, but before she could react the older woman had ripped the next two buttons off as well. Now Dana’s blouse was open nearly to her navel, and her lacy white bra was clearly visible. “I can take care of that as well,” Greta said, reaching for the clasp, but Dana jerked away and clapped her hands to her chest.

  “No! Stop it!” the girl hissed. “You’re ruining my clothes!”

  “Then do hurry up, if you don’t mind. I simply hate to delay my little game.”

  Fighting back tears, Dana unhooked the clasp and slid the bra straps slowly off her shoulders, freeing a set of tits only slightly smaller than Greta’s. They were as round as melons, and topped with dark brown nipples. The girl flattened one hand against her chest and looked around, trying to figure out where to put her bra.

  “Allow me,” Greta said, snatching the item from the girl’s hand and stuffing it into her purse on the floor. “Now then,” she said, sitting up straight again, “I believe it’s time for your little stroll.”

  “But I can’t!” Dana pleaded. “My shirt! Look, I can’t…” The girl pulled at both sides of the fabric, but without buttons there was no way to keep her tits from spilling out. The loose shirt didn’t even cover her nipples all the way.

  “Stand up and walk to the bathroom,” Greta ordered, her voice a low growl. “And do it slowly, casually, the way a normal person would. Do not cross your arms over your chest or cover yourself in any way. If you do, you fail the challenge and have to repay the money immediately.”

  Lips quivering, Dana stood and pushed her chair back. Then she turned to face the room, fists clenched at her sides. The bathroom was all the way on the other side of the room. She would have to cross the entire restaurant to get there! The girl took a deep breath and started walking, doing her best not to rush. If she moved slowly, maybe the rest of the customers would be too busy eating or chatting to notice her. But as she passed the first table, a middle-aged man glanced up at her and nearly dropped his fork as his eyes fell on her exposed tits. Keep walking, keep walking, Dana told herself. Just ignore them. But that was easier said than done. A young blonde gaped at her as she passed a second table, shaking her head and muttering slut as Dana walked by. That caused a group of four businessmen to pause and look up from their meal, all of them craning their necks to get a better look. Holy shit, one of them said with a laugh, nudging the man next to him.

  Dana’s cheeks were burning now, and she had to fight the urge to cover herself as she threaded her way between the tables. She started walking faster, but that only made her tits jiggle more. She glanced down at her chest, cringing when she saw that both nipples were clearly visible now. Oh my god, oh my god, please let this be over! A waiter crossed her path, pausing to let her go in front of him, and his eyes bugged out as he stared openly at her tits. Dana swerved around him, the bathroom door in sight now. She kept her eyes straight ahead, ignoring the stares and chuckles, then she stiff-armed the bathroom door and dashed inside, planting both hands on the counter beside the sink.

  When she saw herself in the mirror, Dana choked out a sob. Her naked tits hung out of her blouse, loose strands of hair hung from her messy bun, and her glasses were now crooked from walking so fast. She looked like the sexy librarian character from some cheap porn movie. She tugged furiously at the sides of her blouse, but with the top three buttons gone there was no way to keep the fabric together.

  A nicely-dressed gray-haired woman entered the bathroom, scowling when she saw Dana.

  “Excuse me,” Dana asked. “Do you have a safety pin I could borrow? I can’t—”

  “Disgusting,” the woman muttered, shaking her head before she entered one of the stalls.

  Dana’s shoulders slumped as she let out a ragged sigh. She looked around the bathroom but couldn’t find anything else that might be useful. There was no choice. All she could do was head back to the table and try to get this horrible night over with as quickly as possible.

  When Dana left the bathroom, half a dozen men from various tables already had their eyes on her. They must have seen her go inside and then sat waiting for her to come out again. The young woman tried to ignore the leers and rude comments as she threaded her way through the tables again, fighting the urge to clap her arms over her chest the whole time. Tits jiggling with every step, Dana crossed the room until she reached Greta’s table again.

  “Now then, that wasn’t so bad,” the older woman cooed as Dana took her seat. She chose the chair beside Greta’s once again, so now her back was to the rest of the room.

  “It was awful,” Dana muttered. “May I have my bra back, please?”

  “In due time,” Greta answered, “but first we need to finish the game. Ready for your next challenge?” When Dana nodded reluctantly, Greta reached into the center of the table and picked up a salt shaker. It was made of crystal with a pewter screw top, long and thin but with a wide base, roughly the same shape as the Eiffel Tower. Greta unscrewed the top and emptied the salt onto her bread plate, wiped the rim of the shaker with her napkin, the screwed the top back on. “There now. Clean as a whistle and ready for fun.” Then the older woman dipped her fingertip into a plate of olive oil next to the bread basket and smeared the top and sides of the shaker with oil until it was slick and shiny. “Challenge number two,” she said, giving Dana a sidelong glance. “Would you rather be fired, or let me put this inside you?”

  Dana gasped. “Inside me? What—”

  “Don’t play dumb, my dear. You know exactly what I mean. You can either let me fuck you with this lovely object, or I can fire you this instant. The choice is yours.”

  “My god, you’re sick!” Dana sobbed, wiping a tear from her face as she shot a nervous glance over her shoulder.

  “Tick tock, darling. What’s your decision?”

  Dana looked at the empty salt shaker, shining with oil. “We’re in the middle of a crowded restaurant, for god’s sake! How could you even—”

  “No, we’re in the dimly-lit corner of a crowded restaurant and we both have our backs to the other diners. Now I’ll ask you one final time; the salt shaker or your walking papers?”

  Dana shut her eyes tight, tears squeezing out from between the lids. “O-okay,” she whispered. “I’ll do it.”

  “Wonderful,” Greta murmured. “Now spread your legs, dear. Wider. As wide as you can. Yes, that’s good.” She picked up the salt shaker and slid it beneath the accountant’s skirt, nudging the crotch of the girl’s panties aside with one finger. “Oh, my. Are you already wet?”

  “N-no,” Dana insi
sted.

  “Well, you could have fooled me,” Greta remarked.

  Dana gasped as Greta rubbed the smooth pewter top of the salt shaker against her pussy lips. They were damp, although it was probably just nervous sweat. But whatever the reason, the combination of the olive oil and Dana’s own juices had her pussy dripping in no time. When Greta pushed the top of the shaker inside the other woman, it slid in with no resistance. Dana squirmed, lips pursed, as Greta kept pushing until half the crystal object was inside. Then one more nudge and only the fat base of the shaker remained outside while the top five inches were buried deep in Dana’s cunt.

  Still squirming, Dana glanced over her shoulder again. With their backs to the room and the heavy chairs blocking the view, the other diners had no idea what was going on. She fidgeted again, trying to get comfortable, but it was impossible with five inches of hard crystal shoved up inside her.

  “My, my,” Greta remarked. “You look like you’re actually enjoying this.” Her hand was still on the base of the shaker, and she pulled it out an inch then pushed it back inside.

  “That’s ridiculous!” Dana hissed. “Of course I’m not!”

  “Oh, really? Let’s find out.” Gripping the base of the shaker in two fingers, Greta slowly pulled it in and out. Dana shifted uncomfortably, trying to act natural, but her pulse had quickened and she could feel her body betraying her. “You’re practically drooling with excitement, my dear,” Greta said. “Why not relax and enjoy it?”

  “Relax? How can I…” But then Dana’s breath caught in her throat as Greta moved the shaker faster and faster, angling the top so that it slid against Dana’s clit with every stroke. The accountant trembled, hands gripping the tablecloth. Her legs were quivering now, knees bouncing up and down as Greta worked the salt shaker faster and faster. Dana tried to think of numbers, spread sheets, invoices, anything to take her mind off what was happening between her legs, but it didn’t work. Soon a warm sensation was spreading through her crotch, growing stronger and stronger each second. Her stomach fluttered, and her fingers and toes tingled madly. The accountant fought to control her breathing, clamping her lips shut to keep from panting. Meanwhile the warm sensation in her loins grew even more powerful, spreading through her entire body now. She gripped the tablecloth so hard the wine glasses trembled, then her eyes went wide as she let out a long, low moan, all the pleasure cresting inside her for several seconds before it slowly ebbed away, leaving her limp and exhausted.

  “There, now,” Greta said, sliding the damp salt shaker out of Dana’s cunt. “That wasn’t terrible at all, was it?” She put the slick object back in the middle of the table then wiped her hands on her napkin.

  Dana couldn’t respond. All she could do was stare at the tabletop, still shaking, her entire body coated with a film of sweat. Her damp tits stuck to the thin fabric of her blouse, and the bottom of her skirt was soaked.

  “Almost done, my dear,” Greta said. “Ready for the final challenge?”

  Dana nodded dumbly. After what she’d already gone through, what could Greta possibly think up next?

  The older woman turned and caught a waiter’s eye, and the man hustled right over to the table. He was balding, middle-aged, with a sagging gut beneath his dress shirt. The man grinned when he saw Dana sitting there all sweaty with her tits hanging out.

  “Anthony, please bring the entrées now,” Greta said. “And I’ll also need the extra service I spoke to you about earlier.”

  The waiter left and headed for the kitchen, a broad smile on his face.

  “I simply love the staff here,” Greta commented. “Tip them properly and they’ll bend over backwards for you.”

  Anthony returned moments later carrying two large plates on a tray. The man stared openly at Dana’s exposed tits as he served the food, despite the girl’s best efforts to cover herself. Greta had ordered lobster salads for both of them, and the plates were brimming with mixed greens topped with celery, onions, bell peppers, and tender chunks of fresh lobster meat.

  “Looks scrumptious, doesn’t it?” Greta asked, but Dana only nodded and crossed her arms tighter over her chest. Then the older woman turned to the waiter and said, “But I believe my friend’s salad could use a little more dressing. Don’t you agree, Anthony?”

  “As you wish, Miss Steele,” he answered with a grin.

  The waiter stood between the two seated women with his back to the dining room as well. Then, as Dana watched with shock and disbelief, Greta pulled the man’s zipper down then fished his semi-hard cock out of the opening in his dark slacks. Dana cringed and turned away, horrified that a stranger’s dick was now dangling less than a foot from her face. She had only seen two in her life, and neither had been this big and scary looking.

  Greta took hold of the cock and began tugging it firmly. “Don’t worry, Anthony, this shouldn’t take long. I’ve been told I’m quite adept at this procedure.”

  “I’m not worried at all, Miss Steele,” the waiter replied, his voice low and rusty with excitement. “And if I may say so, your hands are as soft as silk.”

  “Why thank you, darling.”

  Dana faced the corner, staring at nothing, as Greta continued her work. After only a couple of minutes, Anthony began breathing hard. Greta pulled his cock more insistently, yanking it roughly now. The waiter’s eyes glazed over and his legs began to tremble. “A little closer to the table,” Greta urged, positioning Anthony’s cock above Dana’s plate. “Yes, that’s it. Perfect.”

  Anthony let out a low moan as the first spurt of cum blasted over Dana’s salad. Greta kept pumping his cock, over and over, as more of the thick white goo splashed down until the entire top layer of salad was coated with it. Even then she continued to milk the fat cock until the last drop of cum dripped down onto the plate and the waiter let out a long, exhausted sigh.

  “Thank you so much, Anthony,” Greta said, reaching for a fresh napkin. She wiped both her hand and the waiter’s cock with it, then the man tucked his dick back inside and zipped up again. Greta passed him a folded hundred dollar bill and Anthony gave a small bow then vanished.

  Dana was staring down at her plate in disgust, lip curled, eyes as wide as saucers.

  “Here is your last challenge,” Greta said. “Should I report you to the police, or would you rather eat every bite of this delicious salad?”

  A tear rolled down Dana’s cheek as the girl closed her eyes.

  “You know what will happen, don’t you?” Greta asked. “Even if I don’t press charges, you’ll still lose your accounting license. Your arrest will haunt you forever, and you’ll probably never work in the industry again.”

  Dana nodded because she knew it was true. She had no choice. No choice at all. She opened her eyes again and stared at her plate, stared at the once-delicious food now glistening with a stranger’s cum.

  Greta reached for her cell phone. “Should I make the call, or…?”

  “No,” Dana muttered, grabbing her fork. She took a deep breath and speared a bite of salad, cringing as she lifted it to her lips.

  “Come on, dear,” Greta urged. “Bon appetit.”

  The mere smell of the man’s cum was already making Dana nauseous. She hated performing oral sex and had never let a man cum in her mouth, not even once. The very thought of it disgusted her. Now she would have to swallow every drop of a stranger’s cum, right here in public. Taking a deep breath, she put the bite of salad in her mouth and started chewing. Ugh! The cum was slimy and tasted like bleach! Dana gagged, but then she chewed faster and swallowed the bite before it made her sick.

  “See how easy that was?” Greta crooned with a smile. “Now you’ve only got about twenty bites left.”

  Dana shuddered as she stared at her plate. Could it really be that many? She could never eat it all without throwing up! But what choice did she have? She stabbed another big bite and put it in her mouth. Yuck! A big wad of cum slithered off the lettuce and onto her tongue, and she had to choke it down fast to
keep from gagging again. She took another bite, trying to shovel the food in without thinking about what she was doing. Her eyes were watering now, and the inside of her mouth tasted rancid and bitter. She reached for her wine glass to wash the nasty taste away, but Greta grabbed it first and slid it out of reach.

  “When you’re finished, dear. No need to cleanse your palate just yet.”

  Wiping away a tear with the back of her hand, the accountant let out a ragged sigh and started eating again. After a while her taste buds grew numb to the salty, bleachy flavor, but there was no way to avoid that nasty, slippery feel in her mouth. Dana choked down bite after bite, eyes on the table, as if she were competing in one of those crazy eating contests. After a few minutes, her plate was finally empty.

  “Oh, god,” Dana muttered, holding her stomach. “Miss Steele, I think I’m going to vomit.”

  “You certainly will not,” Greta warned. “After all, you’ve just completed all three challenges. You wouldn’t want to spoil your victory, would you?”

  “I…I guess not.”

  “Good. Then just sit back and let your food settle.”

  Dana tried to pull her blouse closed, but it was still impossible. She sat with her arms crossed over her chest, breathing slowly, trying to force her stomach to quiet down. After a minute or two the nauseous feeling ebbed away, and Dana blotted her damp forehead with her napkin and gave Greta a wary glance. “So…it’s really over? I’m not fired, and you won’t report me to the police?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “And I…I don’t even have to pay back the money?”

  “As I told you, dear, money is irrelevant to me.”

  “Then…um…if this is over, can I please have my bra back?”

  Greta reached down into her purse, but instead of pulling out the bra, she pulled out a pair of handcuffs lined with pink fur instead. “I’m sure you’ll recognize these,” she told Dana. “They’re from our current catalogue.” She stood up and moved behind Dana’s chair, the handcuffs clinking lightly. “Now put your hands behind the chair back, dear.”