Copyright© 2003 by Kien Reti
Jerry Emerson had heard the rumors about the Game. There were some strange things going on in that old house on the hill. Group sex, wild orgies... unbelievable stuff. Now, if you could just get past the thorny hedges, razor wire, and killer dogs...
It was easy enough to crawl through the hedges. Ripped clothes and a scratched up face were no big deal. The "razor wire" consisted of a few rusty strands of ordinary barbed wire. No problem cutting a passage through with ordinary electrical pliers. No sign of the dogs. They must have been out to lunch.
Pinpoints of light were coming from a cellar window. After scraping away years of accumulated dirt and spider webs from the cracked glass, Jerry got down on his knees to peer inside. People were doing something down there... They were naked! They were --
A brutally strong hand had grabbed Jerry by the collar and was hauling him onto his feet. He coughed and choked as a backhanded slap spun him around. Two hefty men grabbed his arms and frogmarched him up crumbling stone steps and in through what looked like an entrance.
There was a tall, middle-aged redheaded woman sitting behind a rolltop wooden desk. She looked up from a stack of papers and eyeballed Jerry as if he were an insect on a dissection table. She looked familiar somehow. He must have seen her somewhere. He just couldn't remember when or where.
The men tossed him like a sack of potatoes onto a battered sofa beside the desk.
"Another one, Mistress Celia," said thug number one.
"Caught in the act," said thug number two.
"Trespassing may be only a misdemeanor in these parts, but it will fetch you at least a week in jail," the woman said. "Judge Watkins happens to be a very special friend of ours."
"Let me go. Please!"
"We could do that. However... then you might never find out what it is we do here. You are just a little bit curious, aren't you?"
"Let's welcome a new participant in the Game."
Jerry stood in the center of a circle of applauding people. They were naked. So was he.
The object of the Game, insofar as he understood it, was to demonstrate self-control. To hold back from coming. To delay orgasm as long as possible.
As a newcomer, he had been accorded the "honor" of being Game Master. This meant he could choose any of the other participants, any of the other people in the room. Women or men. Singly or in groups. In any combination. He could then perform whatever non-injurious acts upon them that he desired. He could have vaginal, oral, or anal sex with any of the surprisingly attractive women here. He could have the latter two varieties of sex with any of the men. He could be the active or passive participant. He could penetrate or be penetrated, or both simultaneously. But there was one important proviso: he wasn't allowed to come.
If, within the allotted time, he should lose control and ejaculate, then he lost. Lost the Game. At that point, he would become "fair game" for any and all of the other participants. For the next two hours, they could use him in any manner they liked. This had some very disturbing implications.
Jerry did not so much fear what the women might do to him if he lost. After all, having one or more of them climb on top of him -- being submerged in female flesh -- wasn't all that unpleasant a prospect. But the men. The men! He had the distinct feeling that some of them hungered for his body and wouldn't at all mind ass-fucking him until he was way past raw and bleeding.
"Now, Jerry, since this is your first time, we've set the time limit at twenty minutes. For experienced participants, we usually set the period at an hour or more."
Celia, the redhead who had given him such a hard time after his capture, was explaining the rules. Apparently she, too, played the Game. She was naked, like everyone else here, and she looked damn fine in her bare skin, even though she must have been in her forties, at least.
"If you can last the complete twenty minutes, you'll avoid losing. The other way to beat the Game to to compel one of the other participants to orgasm before you do. Then you're home free.
"And, oh yes, you're not permitted to use your hands. Any other body part is okay.
"One of the collateral benefits of playing the Game is that it teaches you self-control. But, only if you survive that long, kiddo. Ready to give it a shot, or have you changed your mind? This is your last chance to get out while the gettin's good."
"I'm game," he said.
Jerry didn't stand a chance. At twenty years old he was a semi-virgin. His one prior fumbling attempt at sex had ended in disaster. He'd gotten so excited while pawing his girlfriend that he had ejaculated in his underwear while madly flailing around, try to pull his pants off. He still remembered Gina's hoots of laughter.
It was actually an impressive performance for a virgin. He was on his third woman, and eight minutes into his time when it happened. Trying to be clever, he had been sucking at nipples and clits, avoiding the temptation to insert himself into any of the enticing orifices.
It was Celia who did him in. Absorbed in tongue action, Jerry first became aware of her when powerful female legs scissors-locked around his midsection. He fell backwards, bumping his head lightly on the carpeted floor. By then it was too late because Celia had somehow swiveled atop him and managed to pull his shaft into her using only her marvelously flexible legs. Her trained pussy was squeezing and pumping him. It took only a few seconds in his aroused state before he began spurting helplessly inside her. He groaned as he realized that he had lost. He was lost.
"We'll go easy on you this time," Celia told him. "We wouldn't want this experience to shatter you, after all. You're young, strong, and eager, and some day you might even be a useful addition to the group."
As instructed, Jerry lay on his left side on a padded exercise mat. Facing him was a dark-haired woman whose curvy body he had groped just a few minutes ago. She massaged his limp dick into semi-hardness, then tamped it into her pussy with her fingertips (rather like stuffing the cavity of a turkey prior to baking). Now there was someone lying behind him, rubbing something wet and cold between the crack of his buttocks. Lube. "Ready for some backdoor action?" a baritone voice asked.
It wasn't as if he had never taken it up the ass. When he was younger, he used to push a finger or two up inside himself while masturbating. And once, on a crazy impulse, he had gone into a gay bar and let himself be picked up. The guy's cock hadn't been all that big, and it had felt kind of like a medium-sized turd moving in and out of him. It hadn't hurt, exactly, but it hadn't turned him on either. No big deal.
Uh-oh. This guy's shaft was something else again. Jerry felt his asshole stretch, and then stretch some more as his gut slowly filled up with hard flesh. Now he was the one being stuffed and it was pulling him apart inside. In front though, the woman had begun rhythmically pussy-squeezing his cock, and waves of pure sensation drowned him in a fruit salad of sensory overload.
Ah! Jerry was coming again and his cock began its dance of celebration in its sheath inside the woman, and his asshole began involuntary contractions around the cock embedded deep in his rectum. The woman had pulled his head against her breasts and gave him comfort as the man continued pounding in and out of him.
Jerry was sore inside, but it wasn't so bad, and the thought of being ass-fucked while in the warm arms of a woman was somehow weirdly exciting. Now he felt a throbbing up inside him, deep in the upper chamber of his ass, and a wetness there. The man had come in his ass. He had been thoroughly and completely fucked, both front and back.
"My turn now," a man's voice said. Another man's voice.
Again, the feeling of being ripped open. This time it was easier, maybe because his ass had already been stretched and loosened. I could probably get used to this, Jerry thought. I might even get to like it after a while. Actually, I like it a little already. He felt himself hardening.
The woman smiled, and took his dick into her mouth and playfully tongued it. It was fully erect now.
Two other men ass-fucked him. Jerry was getting sore and abraded inside. His cock was still painfully hard. Celia approached and asked if he'd like that tended to. When he nodded, she bent over, facing away from him, and presented her naked ass. Her pussy was slick with moisture. It was tight and hot, and eminently fuckable. And, as he found out a few minutes later, so was her asshole. But still, something wasn't quite right.
There was a dark and heavy energy hanging in the air -- the bitter-sweet reek of expended sexual desire and its accompanying sense of regret. The lights seemed to have lost some of their brightness and people's faces had taken on a black-tinged aura. Jerry shivered in apprehension. Something was very wrong.
"End of session. You're free to leave now."
Celia led him up the stairs and to a door. The door leading back to his dull, meaningless life.
Jerry reached for the doorknob. Well, he'd had his glimpse of the forbidden. Now what?
A loud explosion and momentary pain. Darkness. The end...
There was a voice in the far distance. "It's a girl."
Celia looked at the snub-nosed pistol in her hand. Such a small weapon, but such great damage it could do. Jerry's body lay sprawled at her feet on the floor. The back of his shattered head was leaking gouts of blood and gray matter.
"So, the cycle begins once more," the woman who had spent the first twenty years of her life as Jerry Emerson whispered to herself. In the distance she could hear sirens. She herself had called the police moments before shooting Jerry.
It would mean a death sentence, she knew. A cold-blooded execution-style killing immediately following a sex orgy would leave a judge and jury little choice. But this was the way it had to be. Fate had led both her and Jerry to this particular meeting and to this ending of paths. It was also a beginning.