by Penny Birch
'The square root of eighty-one.'
He looked blank, then bit his moustache as he struggled to think of the answer, or perhaps even to remember what a square root was. I began to count the seconds down, and had got to four before he spoke.
'Nine, ain't it?'
As he spoke he threw, hitting the twelve twice before successfully sinking a dart into the right bed.
'You sneaky cow,' he told me as he marked up his success.
I was going to have to try harder, but the principle worked.
'Hang on,' Osman said as I took my place. 'OK, got it. Three times thirteen.'
I threw immediately, missed by a whisker, hit the triple four, and the wire. Osman was laughing as I kicked my shoes off. But if he could be awkward, so could I.
'Two hundred and thirty-eight divided by seven,' I told him as we exchanged places,.
'Fuck me . . . um . . . shit . . .'
'Thirty-four, of course,' a small voice said from behind me.
'Thanks, love,' Osman said. I spun round to find the Owl peering up at me from behind her huge round glasses as she sipped at an orange juice.
'What are you doing here!?' I demanded.
'Carrie said it would be OK,' she answered.
'Nice shot, Os,' Tierney remarked as Yazzie's striptease music faded. 'What are you two playing?'
I nearly twisted my neck off trying to look three ways at once. Osman had hit the double seventeen with unerring accuracy, and had begun to speak before I could think of any way to stop him.
'This game she made up, clever it is, and if she wins she gets to use the Golden Chalice for her swingers club. But if I win she and little Carrie with the tits have got to give me a lezzie show. Your go, Isa. What's the matter?'
I'd buried my face in my hands. Amy Jane had heard every word that Osman had said, and was staring at me as if I'd just suggested cannibalism. Because the music had stopped at that instant about a dozen other people had also heard, including Big Dave, Jack and Mo, who had at least seemed to have had the decency not to watch Yazzie. Unfortunately, whatever I said could only make the situation yet more embarrassing, even if that was rather hard to imagine.
'Come on, love, up to the oche,' Osman urged, totally unaware of what he'd done.
A good twenty people were now watching us. I stepped up, feeling numb, barely heard his demand for three seventeens, miscalculated and wasted valuable seconds trying to find a way of scoring fifty-three, then missed anyway.
'Bad luck,' Amy Jane said.
I closed my eyes, fighting back the temptation to strangle her, or spank her again. It now seemed likely that I'd lose, and end up having to entertain Osman without getting the restaurant – either that or pay. I also had to remove an article of clothing, either my top or my jeans, and as I had no bra and was wearing only a miniscule pair of thong panties underneath my outer garments it was not an easy choice.
'What's it to be, Isa?' Osman laughed. 'Tits or arse?'
'You playing strip?' Tierney demanded. 'Nice.'
'Do you have to undress, Isabelle?' Amy Jane asked.
'Yes,' I snapped as I decided it was better to go down to my panties than go topless. 'And could you not tell him the answer this time, please?'
'Sorry,' she answered. 'But . . . but are you really going to . . . strip off, and, you know, with Carrie, in front of him?'
'Probably yes, thanks to you,' I told her as I pushed down my jeans.
She didn't answer, but the look of utter horror in her magnified eyes told me all I needed to know. Osman was waiting, and he watched closely as I tugged my jeans off, trying to think of a good sum despite my embarrassment. Somebody had once told me that the triple eleven was the hardest bed to hit on a dartboard. I made a frantic calculation.
'Um . . . the square root of . . . of one thousand and ninety-nine.'
'You what?' Osman demanded.
'The square root of one thousand and ninety-nine,' I insisted. 'And don't you say a word, Amy Jane.'
'I wasn't going to, but . . .'
'Shut up! Right, that's ten seconds gone.'
'But . . .' Amy Jane demanded. 'But how's he supposed to score thirty-three point one . . . five . . . sorry, that's as close as I can get off the top of my head.'
'He's supposed to score thirty-three,' I said. 'Triple eleven.'
'That would be the square root of one thousand and eighty-nine,' she said.
'Tits out, Isabelle!' Tierney laughed.
'No,' I pointed out. 'That round doesn't count, that's all . . .'
'Yes, it does,' Osman insisted. 'What do you reckon, boys?'
Inevitably they agreed with him, but I insisted on keeping my top on. I was shaking badly as I stepped up once more, and acutely aware that I was showing my panties – although my embarrassment was more because of the Owl than the men.
'Five fives,' Osman said.
It took me maybe a second to remember that twenty-five was the value of the outer bullseye. I forced myself to throw carefully and managed to get the third dart on target, producing a groan of disappointment from the watching men. With two victories I could still win – just.
'This one for the match,' Osman said, stepping forward. 'What's it to be?'
'The cube root of eighty-one,' I demanded.
'I know that one,' he said, 'I had to write it out a hundred times when I was a nipper.'
He'd thrown as he spoke, and not only hit the three but managed to do the same with his remaining darts. With four successes, when I could only hope to manage three in total, he had won. At least I wasn't going to have to strip in front of the Owl.
'Tell you what,' he said. 'Let's go another round, same deal, only . . .'
He leant close as he continued, his moustache tickling my face.
' . . . I get to fuck Carrie's tits while you blow me.'
'No,' I answered immediately.
'All right,' he went on. 'Same deal, but you're up on your own and you have to win two out of three.'
I made to refuse, but hesitated. The odds were against me, but not by very much.
'No triples or doubles?' I suggested. 'Or the bullseye.'
'OK,' he offered. 'If you take your top off.'
'Good on you, Os,' Tierney said.
'Yeah, get her stripped down,' somebody else added.
I bit my lip, unable to meet Amy Jane's gaze as my fingers went to the hem of my skinny top. All I had to do was tug it up and off to be almost completely sure of winning, and I was trying to tell myself that it was ridiculously stuck-up of me to mind going in just my panties when two of my friends had just stripped naked on stage. I'd done the same myself as well, but never under the gaze of an innocent first-year who was no doubt wondering how I could behave like a complete slut and a whore. My nerve failed me and I shook my head.
'Aw, come on, Isa!' Big Dave urged. 'Tell you what, here's ten just to play.'
Tierney immediately offered up five pounds, and Jack twenty, with other men joining in until there was a pile of money on the table easily sufficient to cover my share of the restaurant hire and Katie's as well. I still had to play to get it, but I had to go with Caroline in front of Osman anyway, and Amy Jane knew. Still I hesitated, glancing at her to find that she looked more like an owl than ever, only a stuffed one.
'Oh, to hell with it!' I swore, and peeled off my top.
The men all started to clap as I retrieved the darts from the board. I'd seldom felt more embarrassed but it was impossible not to react to so much attention, especially when more people were now looking at me than at the strippers.
'Eight and one and one and one,' Osman said, as fast as he could.
I'd launched a dart at the nine before he'd even finished, but missed wildly, sinking it into the eleven and cursing before I even realised I'd actually succeeded.
'Well done,' Amy Jane said.
Her voice was breathless with fear and excitement, but there was none of the disapproval that I'd have expected. I managed a smile for h
er, realising that her fear was for me. Just one more success and I would not only have won but would come away with well over a hundred pounds. I fetched the darts, determined to succeed. Osman was having a whispered conversation with Mike at the bar, but he started back as I put my toes to the line.
'Cube root of three four three,' he said.
Even as he spoke I felt myself start to panic. I opened my mouth to protest, but the calculation was no harder than those I'd given him and we'd said nothing about getting help. That wasted maybe two seconds before I began to make desperate calculations.
'It's seven, Isabelle!' Amy Jane squeaked.
I threw, far too hard, hitting the wire and sending the dart back at me, so that I was forced to jump aside. Tierney swore and I felt cold lager splash my naked back and bottom, making me jump. I threw again, hit the three, and was just trying to take aim when Osman called out the ten seconds.
'Knickers off, Isabelle!' the men chorused – all except Tierney, who was trying to fish my dart out of his pint.
'Knickers off,' Osman said firmly as I opened my mouth to protest that we hadn't said anything about my strip carrying on.
'Knickers off!' Big Dave echoed. 'Knickers off!'
The other men took up the chant, and despite myself I found my thumbs going to the waistband of my skimpy panties. Amy Jane looked terrified, and I didn't blame her, with twenty or more large rough men baying for me to go naked while she was now the only woman in the pub with all her clothes still on.
'OK, OK,' I said quickly, and pushed down my thong, drawing an immediate cheer from the men as my pussy came on show and my bum was fully bared.
I kicked my panties off and then I was standing stark naked in a half-circle of drunken lecherous men. Yet my nipples were hard and I was shamefully sticky between my thighs; already I could feel my resistance slipping. But I knew that given what looked likely to happen to me it was probably just as well. I knew I could cope as well, if I had to, and so could Caroline, but I was equally sure that Amy Jane couldn't. Osman was grinning at me, quite happy to let me take my time now that I was in the nude, while Big Dave was by the window. I signalled to both of them, speaking in an undertone as they approached.
'You can take me in the back afterwards,' I offered, 'even if I win. But promise me you'll take care of my friend. Nobody's to touch her.'
'You got it,' Dave promised and Osman gave a solemn nod.
As I took up the darts again I was trying to tell myself that I should be cursing the Owl for what I was going to have to put up with for her sake. But it wouldn't wash. I'd sacrificed myself, but willingly, and the only resentment I felt was for my own dirty reaction.
'Ready?' Osman demanded, and I nodded. 'What year was the Turkish Grand National Assembly first formed? Like, just the last two figures.'
I laughed at him.
'I'm reading history,' I said. 'Nineteen-twenty, so . . .'
I took careful aim at the top of the board, showing off by aiming for the triple, and sank the dart dead in the bed's centre. Suddenly being stark naked in a rough townie pub no longer mattered. I'd won, and I gave a crow of triumph, my arms held high.
'Twenty, not sixty,' Osman said.
'We said no doubles or triples,' I pointed out, but with a sudden sick feeling welling up inside me.
'We said I wasn't allowed to give you doubles or triples,' he pointed out. 'Not that they didn't score if you hit one.'
'Yes, but . . .'
I stopped and threw another dart, which scored one, but my third hit the twenty.
'There we are,' I told him, cocking my thumb at the board, only to realise that he was tapping his watch.
'Time's up, babe,' he said.
'Yes, but my first shot . . .'
'Might have counted if you hadn't thrown again, but seeing as you did, well . . . You can't have it both ways, can she, lads?'
The answer was a storm of raucous laughter and shouts of congratulation to Osman. Again I made to speak, but it was not easy in the face of the men's sheer animal lust, while I knew that Osman was right. Naked, sticky with beer and my own juice, beaten, I threw up my hands in despair. Another cheer greeted the gesture and Osman reached out to take me by the hand. I made a frantic signal to Big Dave, who nodded, and allowed myself to be led in among the crowd, too numb with defeat to object to the hands reaching out to squeeze my bottom and breasts.
One of the strippers was still on stage, just finishing a routine, and I was forced to wait, standing naked by the stage with the entire pub aware that Osman was about to take me into the back for sex. The moment she'd given a last teasing flash of her pussy beneath the tiny school skirt that was her only garment I was led up onto the stage to the sound of cheers and catcalls.
'Have a nice wank, boys!' Osman called out. 'Me, I've got the real thing.'
The men responded with yells of abuse and filthy demands so loud and so strong that I found myself scampering across the stage faster than Osman could lead me, which in turn set a lot of them laughing. Caroline was in the storeroom, barefoot but in her army shorts and top. As soon as she saw me naked and with Osman she realised what had happened.
'You lost, didn't you?' she asked.
I shrugged, unable to speak for the huge lump in my throat. The other stripper took one look at Osman and made a hasty exit. Caroline gave a sigh.
'So, what do you want to do first?' she asked.
'You two have got to get dirty, that's the deal,' Osman told her.
'Would you like me to spank her?' I offered, hoping he'd at least allow me to take a dominant role.
'I don't mind a bit of kinky stuff,' he answered, 'as long as there's plenty of T and A on show. But I'd really like to watch you suck each other's tits.'
Caroline's response was to take hold of her tiny khaki top and flip it up, spilling out her great heavy breasts. Osman said something in Turkish and sat down heavily on a beer keg, as if the mere sight of Caroline's chest had been enough to drain him of energy. Her tits were slick with sweat from her dancing and her nipples were stiff, tempting me to suckle on her as she bounced them in her hands. She was smiling, fully aware of the effect her breasts had on men, and on me. I wanted to slap them and leave her pink and aching, then do her bottom and have her go down on her knees to me, sore at back and front. But that could wait until later, I decided. I'd promised Osman a show, and I hadn't given up on the idea of getting the restaurant for free.
'Go on, play with them,' Osman urged. 'I want to see you touch her up.'
I sat down opposite Caroline and took her breasts in my hands, feeling the hot heavy flesh and marvell-ing at their sheer size. She pushed them out obligingly and I leant forward, first to lick at one salty nipple and then to take it in my mouth, sucking on her. Osman gave a deep groan and changed position, spreading his massive legs to show off the bulge in his crotch. I continued to suckle on Caroline, watching him from the corner of one eye as he massaged his cock through his trousers. He looked big, and was obviously getting hard, making me wonder if I could make him come just by playing with her and spare myself the indignity of a mouthful of spunk.
'Have you ever seen one girl kiss another's bottom?' I asked.
'Not for real,' he answered. 'You do that stuff?'
I smiled and stood up, turning to present Caroline with my bare bottom. She gave me a slap, but put her face close, kissing my cheeks, lapping at my skin, running her tongue slowly up my anal crease, all the while with Osman staring in mingled lust and astonishment. He was completely in thrall to our ability to choose what we did together, making me feel powerful and confident.
'Would you like to see her kiss my bumhole?' I offered.
'Fucking hell!' he breathed, and began to struggle with his flies.
'You're a dirty bitch, Isabelle,' Caroline remarked.
'You're the one who's about to kiss a bumhole,' I reminded her. 'Now come on.'
Osman had freed his cock, a great brown pillar of flesh, long and thick and curving up, imm
ensely virile. Immediately I wanted him inside me, but I was doing my best to keep control. Caroline was still kissing and licking at my cheeks and crease, but was playing with her tits at the same time, a sure sign that she was ready.
'My bottom-hole, Caroline,' I reminded her.
She continued to lick, faster still, and harder, but not where I'd told her to.
'Lick my bottom, Caroline,' I demanded.
She gave a little shake of her head, but I wasn't having it. Reaching back, I took her firmly by the hair and pulled her face in between my cheeks. For a moment she tried to pull away and I nearly let go, only to have her suddenly bury her tongue up my bottom, pushing in, lapping as if to clean me up, then probing once more.
'Good girl,' I said. 'That's where your tongue belongs, up my bottom, isn't it?'
Having given in, Caroline was making the best of it, with her tongue well in and her mouth wide between my bum cheeks. I closed my eyes in bliss, enjoying both the feel of her tongue on my anus and the knowledge of what she was doing. There can be no deeper submission to another woman than to lick her bottom, and I was in my element until Osman spoke again.
'I can't see properly. Stick it right out, Isabelle, and hold your cheeks open so I can watch her tongue touch your hole.'
I hesitated, but we were showing off for him so I did as I was told, spreading myself to let him see my bumhole as Caroline pulled back a little. She'd kept her tongue out, now teasing my anus with its very tip, a sight that had Osman pulling furiously at his cock. I pushed my bottom out a little more, showing everything and hoping that he'd come in his hand.
'You dirty bitches,' he breathed. 'Now swap round.'
'Um . . . that's not really how it works,' I began even as Caroline pulled back.
'Come on, Isabelle,' she urged. 'I licked yours, you have to lick mine.'
'No, I—'
'Come on – it's just for show, remember, and I like my bottom licked.'
Osman gave a groan and Caroline giggled at his reaction. She'd stood up, stroking my cheeks and spanking me gently. Despite myself I wanted to stick it out for more, and to lick her.