Game

by Justine Elyot

  ‘Yes.’ Lloyd answers this one, with a really piercing glance in my direction.

  ‘Are you lifestyle players?’

  ‘No, just bedroom dabblers really. Looking to go a bit deeper.’

  ‘Oh, lovely, I do like it when we have relative newbies to the scene. So many delights to be found.’

  She has the kind of throaty, theatrical delivery that could very easily sound false, but I believe her. Her enthusiasm for this seems nothing but genuine.

  ‘Which way round is your dynamic? Or do you switch?’

  Lloyd clears his throat. ‘We did try switching, actually, but it wasn’t something we really went for. So I do and she’s done to.’

  ‘Oh, yes, a nice way of putting it. But of course, the gifts are reciprocal. This balance of power can’t work with partners who don’t respect each other as equals.’

  ‘That’s so true!’ I’m quite excited by her words, more so than I would have expected to be. ‘One thing I hate is when people assume that the submissive partner is weak. That’s such a simplistic, wrong-headed way of looking at it.’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t agree more. Submission takes a great deal of courage and strength. For one thing, as a woman in today’s world, it’s so often considered taboo to admit that you like a man to take control in the bedroom.’

  ‘I kind of buried that side of myself for years,’ I continue. I’m so excited I can hardly get the words out. I feel close to this woman, whose name I don’t even know – it’s like an instant infatuation. ‘I felt guilty and disloyal for even thinking it.’

  ‘And yet, what do you have to feel guilty for? A preference that may well be innate and, even if it isn’t, there’s nothing you can do to change it. Perhaps one day we’ll be able to enjoy our sexuality without fear of judgement. Until then – here we are.’

  She leans over sympathetically, and the door opens to admit a man with vampire teeth.

  This throws me off my stride a little.

  ‘They’re real.’ He answers the unspoken question with a big flashing smile. ‘I had them filed down. So many subs go for a vampire.’

  ‘But you don’t actually …?’ Those fangs could do some damage.

  ‘Ah …’ He smiles enigmatically and proffers a hand. ‘Mal. Not short for Malcolm.’

  ‘What is it short for?’ asks Lloyd, standing to shake the guy’s hand.

  ‘Malfeasant.’

  ‘Nice name,’ I observe, taking my turn to glad-hand him. ‘I’m Sophie. This is Lloyd.’

  ‘Great to meet you. So, how are we playing this?’

  The question is addressed to O, who notices my slight stiffening at it.

  ‘Dr Lassiter will have told you, I assume, that we require a small demonstration of your commitment to this practice,’ she says. ‘It helps keep the dirty sniffers of the press off our doorstep. With our elite membership, there’s rather a lot of potential for blackmailers within these walls. Of course, we trust Dr Lassiter’s judgement. All the same, it’s a rule of the house.’

  Mal clarifies the issue. ‘So what’s it going to be, my dears? A spanking? Nice bit of bondage? Maybe a spot of humiliation?’

  I hope Lloyd has something prepared. We haven’t discussed this. I thought it was meant to be an interview, not a practical.

  ‘Bloody hell, baptism of fire,’ I mutter, shooting him daggers.

  ‘You can say no,’ he reminds me in a whisper.

  ‘I’m not falling at the first fence. What are we doing?’

  He raises his voice to answer. ‘Sophie, I want you to stand up and remove your coat.’

  I stand up. The tops of my boots tickle my naked thighs, reminding me of the pale expanse stretching from there to the too-high hem of the rubber dress.

  I shrug off the coat and hand it to Lloyd, turning away from my audience as I do so and maintaining my huddled half-crouching stance, trying to make myself as small and invisible as possible.

  ‘Up straight and face our examiners,’ he orders briskly. This means I have to break my eye contact with Lloyd. I really, really don’t want to do this. But I do it.

  ‘Oh, we’re not examiners,’ coos O. ‘Don’t make the situation more formal than it needs to be. You do look lovely, dear – gorgeous rubber. Call us by our names, Lloyd, if you’re comfortable with that.’

  ‘OK,’ says Lloyd from behind me.

  I look at a distant spot on the wall behind O and Mal, blurring out their rapacious smiles and lustful eyes. My shoulders are back, thrusting out my tightly confined breasts. The bottom of the dress barely skims my pussy; it would only take the fractional raise of a leg to expose everything.

  ‘Put your hands on your head, Sophie.’

  The movement lifts the dress ever so slightly, just enough to give my new friends a glimpse of shaved lip. The tension created by the latex is unbearably sexy, as is the knowledge of my inescapable exposure. I feel the wetness, the unruly pulse of desire. Lloyd was right. This challenge is going to be easy after all.

  ‘Now turn around slowly.’

  I perform a slow rotation, trying hard not to stick my bum out too far, though I’m sorely tempted. With one hundred and eighty degrees completed and Lloyd’s face back in my register – an evilly intent, highly focused face – he commands me to stop.

  ‘Bend over,’ he says.

  I won’t look at him. I won’t make a face at him. I mustn’t give him failure ammunition.

  So I lower my eyes to the ground and carefully let my upper torso follow suit. I feel every upward millimetre of my hem’s progress over the curve of my bottom until it sits nice and square in the middle of my outthrust cheeks, showing everything beneath.

  ‘I’d value your opinion of her arse,’ says Lloyd politely.

  ‘Wonderful shape,’ purrs O. ‘So full and round.’

  ‘The most spankable I’ve seen in a long time,’ is Mal’s verdict. ‘Though it’s a bit pale for my taste. I prefer them redder.’

  ‘That can be arranged.’ Lloyd!

  ‘Of course, it’s your call.’ Thanks, Mal.

  O has a question now. ‘What kind of things do you like to do to that delicious bottom, Lloyd? How much use does it get?’

  ‘Oh, plenty. Obviously, like Mal, I like to see it turn red. I like the heat, especially if I put my cock inside afterwards.’

  ‘Ah yeah, there’s no beating the feeling, is there?’ says Mal yearningly.

  Never mind red arses, I’m pretty sure my face is that shade of which they so approve. Just as well it’s beyond their view. In the meantime, my cunt is dripping. Surely they’ll notice soon? Oh God. I clench and unclench the muscles, praying that this will help me keep my secret.

  ‘Fucking a good hot red arse, you mean?’ says Lloyd, still in this insane polite chitchat kind of tone. ‘Absolutely. My favourite.’

  ‘Do you use butt plugs?’

  ‘Oh yes, she loves those. For pleasure and for discipline. She wore one behind the reception desk all morning once after one particular episode of naughtiness.’

  Oh, I remember that. Remember the squirming on the chair, the growing pool of liquid lust in my knickers, the perma-blush on my face as I greeted each guest. He’s such a glorious pervert. They really are going to see the shining evidence of my arousal very soon.

  ‘I must visit your hotel,’ remarks O. ‘Dr Lassiter recommends it very highly.’

  ‘Thank you,’ says Lloyd, then his tone changes and I know he is addressing me. ‘Stand up. Turn back around.’

  Rather than slide back down over my curves, the latex remains, slightly rumpled, halfway up my bum. As my eyes find that distant spot on the wall once more, Lloyd reaches out an idle hand to caress the bared skin. I only just catch the moan in my throat, replacing it with a shuddery exhalation.

  ‘Spread your legs, Sophie. Yes, that’s it. Little bit wider. Good.’

  My pubic triangle is on display, lips parted to uncover the swollen red bud within. Lloyd, stroking my bottom and running a finger up between the c
heeks, pushes me forwards an inch or so.

  ‘Show them,’ he says softly. ‘Show them how wet you are.’

  I tilt my pelvis, angling it so that my sex is as fully viewable as possible.

  ‘Take your hands off your head and hold your lips open for them.’

  I obey, feeling as if all my blood is rushing from crotch to face and back again, draining every other part of my body. My legs feel weak and my arms start to tremble.

  ‘She’s very wet,’ he tells them, dipping fingers lightly into my juices.

  ‘She likes to be put on show.’ Mal is leaning forwards, his face livid red. ‘That’s a great sign. She’ll be brilliant at the master/slave events. Tons of potential.’

  Lloyd, standing behind me now, lifts his fingers to my mouth and has me lick them, tasting myself on his warm skin. ‘You’re doing so well,’ he whispers into my ear. ‘I’m proud of you.’

  I hate that his expression of pride makes my chest swell and my heart constrict. I hate that. I want to be indifferent to his fucking pride. Why can’t I be indifferent to it?

  ‘O, Mal, do you like her dress?’

  Mal grunts his approval while O repeats her assertion that it’s ‘gorgeous’.

  ‘Perhaps you’d like to see it at closer quarters, then. Would you like to feel it?’

  They don’t need asking twice. Like big cats on the veldt, they stalk and circle their prey, drawing closer.

  Lloyd stands aside to let them surround me. ‘Touch her,’ he invites.

  O’s elegant hand runs along my side, from my shoulders to my hips, snagging at the rumpled part of latex and moving beyond to land flat-palmed on my naked flesh.

  ‘I’d like to feel her tits,’ she says to Lloyd. ‘Are they heavy?’

  ‘Find out for yourself.’

  She weighs them in considering hands, tending to them so gently. She has to be a submissive. There is no pinching or squeezing from her fingertips.

  Meanwhile, Mal is all about my arse. He crouches behind me and I can feel his stare boring into the tops of my thighs. He holds me by the top of my thigh-highs and sniffs the leather. I feel his nose drift upwards on to my quivering flanks. When he buries his face in my bottom, Lloyd calls time.

  ‘I see you approve.’

  ‘Thank you for letting us examine her,’ says O, releasing my breasts and planting a daring quick kiss on my cheek. ‘She’s delightful.’

  ‘Delightful,’ echoes Mal, sounding a bit strained. When he comes back around to the front, I note a bulge in the tight leather pants.

  ‘One more thing,’ says Lloyd, to me. He puts one hand on my shoulder from behind and delves between my legs with the other, giving my clit a good rub, swishing his fingers in the surrounding gush. ‘You need to come, don’t you, love?’

  It feels so heavy, so tender, so shamefully needy. I do, I do, but must it be in here?

  It seems it must.

  ‘Oh,’ I whimper. ‘Please.’

  ‘Show our friends how you like to touch yourself,’ he says.

  It sounds like a request. It sounds as if I can say no. But I know different.

  I hide my face in his arm at first, then the command tone comes out.

  ‘Sit in the chair, Sophie, legs apart. Now.’

  He releases me so I can obey the order. My half-naked bottom meets the cold wood of the seat. I widen my thighs, show my glistening wares to these two complete strangers while Lloyd hovers over my shoulder, his hand on the back of my neck.

  ‘Show them. Masturbate for us, love. We want to see you come.’

  I shut my eyes. Part of me wants to be in this scene so very much, and yet another part of me wants to run away. Lloyd, helpfully, cuts down my options. He strokes the nape of my neck with gentle knuckles, leaning behind me, murmuring supportive filth.

  ‘You want this, Sophie, you want to be watched. Get your fingers on that big fat clit and give them a show.’

  I follow his instructions blindly. He’s right, it’s so fat and full and juicy, so ready to be touched.

  ‘Would she like a vibrator?’ offers O.

  ‘No, fingers only this time. Come on, Sophie. Show them what a willing wanton thing you are. She’ll do it with anyone, you know? She’s the whore you don’t have to pay for. Everyone knows it. Everyone knows they can have her just by looking at her. She’s opened her legs for so many men, she’s the town bike, the good time that was had by all, aren’t you, Soph? But despite all that, she’s still mine, when it comes right down to it, she’s still mine because I know how to do it right, because I know her.’

  His words and my fingers work together, a key and lock, opening my exquisite shame, setting fire to it until it combusts into an orgasm of such complex potency it blows my mind. What makes me come? Is it the simple manipulation of my clit? Is it Lloyd’s words, his voice, his savagely accurate summation of me? Is it the fact that I am watched and laid bare to two strangers, who will now know exactly what I am? Is it all of it together? I can’t separate the strands. I give up trying and deflate on the chair, limbs hanging heavy, juices growing cold, cunt twitching in tiny aftershocks until it comes to rest.

  Lloyd has his arms around me from behind. He is hugging me quite fiercely into his chest, kissing my hair. He knows me.

  I wonder if there’s a handy hospital trolley, because the only way I’m leaving here is on one. It seems like the kind of place you might find such an item. With plenty of straps attached.

  ‘Did you enjoy that, Sophie?’ O is solicitous, sympathetic.

  I aim a drugged kind of nod in her direction. ‘Mmm, thanks.’

  ‘I know I did,’ says Mal. He reminds me of a drunken uncle making inappropriate remarks at a family gathering. I can’t imagine this Carry On vampire being authoritative, but I guess he must be. O doesn’t seem the type to settle for a dud.

  ‘Thank you for being such a lovely audience,’ says Lloyd unctuously. I dredge up the energy for an appreciative chuckle from somewhere and Mal and O join in.

  ‘Well, if you’d like to wash your hands and sort yourselves out, why don’t you take a little tour of the club? I think everything’s open just now. We have a lovely café and bar area just next door.’ O has moved on from the scene, brisk and businesslike once more.

  It’s our signal to straighten up, shake the lust fog from our heads and pretend nobody ever watched anybody getting off in front of them.

  My rubber dress covers my bum once more. I squirt my hands with that spirit gel stuff they have in hospitals, a bottle of which O keeps handy in her desk. She lends me a mirror to fix my hair and make-up. Lloyd loosens his collar, pulling the tie off and stuffing it in his pocket. His neck is damp. He was more nervous than I was.

  We make polite noises and leave for the aforementioned café area. It’s substantially less gothic than I expect – no upright coffins in the corners, just pot plants.

  ‘So then,’ says Lloyd, once we have ordered coffees and sunk down into a deep leather couch in the corner. ‘How was that for you?’

  ‘It was good. Weird, but good.’

  ‘And do you think you’ll be able to do something similar, but on a grander scale, at the play party tomorrow night?’

  ‘There’ll be lots more people there.’

  ‘Yeah, but they’re all kinky. They get to watch you, but you get to watch them as well. We’re all voyeurs and some of us are exhibitionists too. Come on. You can’t tell me you aren’t an exhibitionist, Soph.’

  ‘No, I can’t tell you that. But what are you going to do?’

  ‘Haven’t decided yet.’

  I cast my eye around the room at the other customers. Will they be the witnesses of my shame? It’s mid-afternoon, so those that are here are mainly students or people who work nights. While there is a smattering of leather, most are dressed according to a more bohemian template. A few suits here and there. The idea of having all their eyes fixed on me is exciting.

  A woman in a clingy jersey dress crosses the room and I jump up.r />
  ‘Rachael!’

  My old friend and partner in submission turns to face me. ‘Ah, I was looking for you.’ She comes to sit with us. ‘I heard you were going to be in for you induction this afternoon. Lloyd told me. How did it go?’

  ‘Pretty good, I think. They didn’t throw us out, at least.’

  ‘What did you do? Spanking, bondage?’

  I don’t want to say. Lloyd helps me out.

  ‘I made her finger herself in front of them.’

  ‘Oh, gosh, I don’t think I’d have been able to do that! Not when I was a newbie anyway.’ Rachael puts an arm around me. ‘You’re so brave.’

  ‘Am I?’ I never think of myself as such. I just go along, let the tide carry me. What’s brave about that?

  ‘I’m glad you’re here,’ says Lloyd to Rachael. ‘I could use some advice.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘What shall I do? Tomorrow night? This is the first time I’ve done anything like this for an audience and I don’t want to mess it up. What would you suggest?’

  ‘Hmm.’ Rachael frowns, as if surprised Lloyd should need guidance. I’m quite touched at how anxious he is to do things right. Mr Cocky Cocksure has stage fright. ‘Well, I’d start simple. If you enjoy the experience, you can always build it up.’

  ‘What did you do, your first time?’ I ask.

  ‘It was a simple spanking scene,’ she reminisces. ‘I wasn’t alone, actually. Me and two other girls played a little scene where we were lazy housemaids caught showing each other our underwear.’

  ‘Do elaborate,’ drawls Lloyd. His hands are clasped ever so casually over his crotch. I think I know why.

  ‘It was fun,’ she says. ‘Me and the other two – O was one of them – dressed up in these teeny-tiny French maid outfits and pranced about in the boudoir with feather dusters. Have you seen the boudoir?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘It’s lovely, you must. Anyway, we pretended to dust, and O and the other girl, both more experienced than me at that time, started making out. We ended up lifting each other’s skirt to see all the frillies underneath, touching each other. O was licking this other girl out while I watched when the Mistress caught us.’