The boy tied to the frame seemed to have sensitive nipples. Certainly, when the giggling girls in blue polo shirts started tugging at them, his bucking increased dramatically.

I poked my head around from the other side, annoyed. "Could you guys cool it a minute? I'm trying to read."

"Sorry, Mr. Tesla," one girl said. When there's a new visitor on Nantahack Island, word does seem to get out.

"Please call me Vinnie," I said. "Only telemarketers and my old history prof call me Mr. Tesla."

"Sorry, Mr. Te— I mean ... Vinnie," she corrected herself, blushing.

Now I felt kind of bad for being so crabby. They were just doing their job, after all—sexual torture of initiates was a major part of their job as midshipmen ... and considerably more fun than scrubbing barnacles off hulls. And the one who'd spoken was a very pretty girl—heavily freckled with short brown hair, her eyes faintly slanted up in a rather mischievous look. "I'll be done in a minute. And it's not like he's going anywhere," I quipped.

They chuckled politely and I felt kind of dumb. Oh, well. I went back to my perusal. Combining a community bulletin board with a St. Andrews cross seemed like a pretty ingenious idea when I first saw it, but it turns out to have its inconveniences in practice.

The notices weren't actually very interesting, but Emily was only going to be a few minutes getting stuff at the General Store, so it didn't have to engross me for long. Yoga classes ... babysitting services ... guitar lessons...

I took a look at the Yacht Club calendar of events: The promised movie nights. A bunch of public deflowerments, including Tina's from last week (Jeez, they actually had me listed as Mystery Guest! How cheesy is that?), some actual sailing lessons...

"Hey lover," Emily chirped behind me, and nipped the back of my neck lightly. "All done!"

"What's Game Night?" I asked her. "Is that like Magic: The Gathering and stuff?"

"Oh, no. That would be Games Night, which isn't till Thursday. Saturday is The Most Dangerous Game of All," she intoned significantly, doing a gesture I can only describe as the Jazz Hands Of Mystery.

"You mean Russian Roulette?"

"No, silly"

"I Never?"

"Nope."

"Strip Jai-Alai? Duck hunting with Dick Cheney?"

"Man, you idiot. The most dangerous game of all is man."

"Huh. I'd have said women were at least twenty percent more dangerous."

"Say forty or I'll sock you."

"Forty percent. At a minimum."

"Good boy. Did you get bored without me?"

"Nah. I had these nice girls to keep me entertained."

Emily poked her head around the corkboard, which was shaking again.

"Good morning, sir!" chorused two voices at once. A third muffled one appeared to be the bound boy attempting to echo them with a gag in his mouth.

Emily cocked her head toward the girls. "Oh, dear. It's Alice and Dinah. Watch out, they're trouble." The one who'd spoken earlier pouted, but kept silent.

Emily glared at her sternly. "Have you been hitting on my boyfriend, Dinah?" she demanded.

"No, sir!" Dinah squeaked at once. "Honest!"

Emily clucked her tongue sadly. "Then I'll just have to go back inside and give you couple minutes to get going," she said, "Don't disappoint me." And she strode back towards the General Store.

I linked my hands and watched them with an attempt at a neutral expression; I suspect that a little grin was twitching at the corner of my lips. Alice ducked behind the messageboard. Dinah, with obvious effort, raised her eyes to meet mine. "Um, she said. "Um..."

Behind Dinah, Emily was leaning in the doorframe of the General Store, watching. I suppressed the urge to wink at her.

"Would you like to ... um ... kiss me?" Dinah squeaked, apparently unable to come up with a suitably concise preamble.

"I dunno." I said. "Are you a good kisser?"

"Uh-huh!" she nodded at once.

"Can you prove it?"

She looked around. Alice was doing her best to be invisible. "I could show you on him," she said, inclining her head toward the bound boy.

I nodded assent, and she approached him. His mouth was a good two feet above hers, as well as being gagged, but, on tiptoes, her pointed little tongue could easily reach one tight nipple. He groaned through his gag, and his cock bounced against her stomach. Apparently by instinct, her hand reached up and grasped it, while her tongue continued to tease. The boy's hips jerked, humping his groin against her fist so that the slick head of his cock appeared and disappeared between her fingers.

As his groans rose in pitch and tempo, she whirled away from him, leaving his bare cock twitching. "How was that?" she asked eagerly.

"Not bad," I conceded, stepping towards her. "Evil, but not bad." I put an arm around her waist, tilted her jaw up with my other hand, bent down towards her. Her mouth parted, her eyes fluttered shut.

"Time's up!" Emily called merrily from the doorway.

"Shit," Dinah muttered quietly, stepping backwards.

Emily skipped back over to me while Dinah tried to regain her composure.

"Sixty percent," I said when she arrived at my side.

Emily nodded, acknowledging the compliment "It's not just me," she said. "Don't let her good manners fool you. Dinah's more dangerous than she looks. Here—check this out."

"Come here," she ordered Dinah, who hesitantly stepped forward. Her hand shot out and took the girl by the scruff of the neck, and ignoring her squeaks, tugged her over to the face the bound boy on the board. "Hands against the frame, ass out." Emily ordered.

Dinah hurried to comply. Bent over, her face was about level with the bound boy's genitals. Grinning, Emily reached around, unfastened Dinah's shorts, and tugged them down, immediately followed by her underwear. Firm, broad, flawless cheeks, generously sprinkled with dark freckles, were exposed. "Aww!" Emily cooed. "The pretty bruises I gave you last week are all gone! I'll have to swat you a little harder next time, huh?"

Dinah swallowed audibly. "Yes, sir."

"This is a dangerous ass all by itself," Emily said to me, "but watch this:"

She ran her fingernails down one cheek, provoking squirms and shudders as Dinah struggled to remain in position. Over the next few seconds, raised pink welts appeared in parallel lines where Emily's fingers had run.

"Pretty!" I said admiringly.

"That's just the beginning of this little fuckmonkey's bag of tricks."

"Fuckmonkey!?"

Emily shrugged her shoulders. "Yeah, fuckmonkey."

"That's a terrible word!" I sputtered.

"It's fun to say", she insisted, her fingernails tracing over Dinah's lower back, leaving curving pink trails behind.

"It is not," I insisted.

"Try saying it a few times."

I rolled my eyes, but complied. "Fuckmonkey, fuckmonkey, fuckmonkey."

"More."

"Fuckmonkey, fuckmonkey, fuckmonkey. Fuckmonkey-fuckmonkey-fuckmonkey-fuckmonkey-fuckmonkey. Fuckmonkey!"

"Well?"

I hesitated.

"Well?"

"Okay, it's pretty fun to say."

"I know what I'm talking about," Emily said smugly, then turned her attention back to Dinah. She reached her hand between her bare legs and the younger girl moaned at the touch. "Damn, you're wet, girl! " she exclaimed.

"I ... was having fun with Jason." Dinah mumbled, her face pressed against her former victim's belly."

"I'll bet." The muscles in Emily's forearm flexed, and Dinah cried out. Then Emily withdrew her hand, fingers shining.

"Feel this, Vinnie, " she said, gesturing to the intersection of thighs and buttocks where her own hand had penetrated."

"Um..." I hesitated."

"Go ahead. Dinah doesn't mind, do you sweetheart?"

"Um, Nuh—" the girl began, before her mouth was stuffed with Emily's wet fingers.

"Suck, girl, "Emily ordered. "We don't want you making too much noise while Vinnie puts his hand in your gooey little hole."

Hesitantly, I stepped up, ran a hand over Dinah's cool, resilient cheeks, then down into the heated furrow between them. She squirmed back against my hand, apparently eager for the contact. I felt damp curly hair, then found her slick little opening, and pressed a finger inside, then two. She arched her back and bounced her hips against my hand eagerly.

"Okay," Emily said. "Now squeeze, Dinah."

Dinah arched her ass out a little further and moaned around the fingers in her mouth. "Ow!" I said. "Holy shit!"

Emily giggled. "How'd you like to feel that on your cock?"

"I'm ... really not sure." I admitted, withdrawing, with some effort, my slightly sore knuckles from between Dinah's thighs.

"Well, you don't have to decide right now," Emily told me. "I have other uses for you.

Dinah made a little moan of disappointment when Emily pulled her shorts back up and reached around to snap them shut.

Emily cupped Dinah's chin. "I'll see you tomorrow at sailing class, right?"

Dinah nodded eagerly.

Emily took my hand and tugged me back towards the house.

"So you want to go to Game Night?" she asked me.

"You want to tell me what it actually is?"

"And ruin the surprise? C'mon. The mosquito lobby has promised me five bucks for every person I persuade to go."

"You do make a compelling case..."

Flickering red light from tiki torches illuminated the crowd—largely (like Tina) Yacht Club age, with some (like Emily and me) a little older, and a few (like Emily's mom)substantially older. (Her dad had begged off, claiming his ankle didn't like running around in the woods.) Only the little phalanx of middies clustered around a little wooden platform at one end of the clearing and the one officer in front of them were in uniform, distinguished also by the glowsticks draped around their necks. When we arrived, we'd each written our names on slips of paper and dropped them into a box.

"What was that for?" I asked Emily.

"You'll see," she grinned. I had a guess.

The young man in the red shirt stepped up onto the platform and the crowd noise subsided. "Okay, everybody!" he called. Next to him the tight knot of middies scanned the crowd intently.

He reached into the box, swirled his hand around ostentatiously, and pulled out a slip, which he squinted at in the fitful light. "Dinah Moran," he called out. A half dozen middies sprang forward, shoving their way roughly into the crowd. They disappeared from my line of sight, and then there was a shriek and a dozen hands were pushing a squirming body aloft.

"Dinah, do you consent to be our prey tonight?" the boy with the box said, a little pompously.

"Um, yes," the lifted girl said, barely audible. At once the hands were tugging at her clothes, untying her hiking boots, removing her glasses. Her shirt was pulled up, her bra unfastened. For a moment her face was concealed, her arms bound in fabric as her breasts rolled about, her nipples dark puckers in the cool night air. Her pants were jerked down her hips.

In a moment, she was completely bare. Her socks were pulled back on, her boots slipped over each foot, then painstakingly tied. Her glasses were gently slid back onto her face, and the middies lifted her and carried her squirming bare form to the base of the platform, where she was set onto her feet, dazed, flushed, hair askew.

The blond officer was already rummaging in the box again. I felt a tightening in my throat as he scanned the next slip.

"Jamie Andrews!"

Again the middies plunged into the crowd, obtained consent, and stripped their quarry, setting him down by Dana. The two nude youths glanced at each other nervously before fixing their blushing faces on the ground.

"Emily Upham!" Suddenly the press of middies was beside me, grabbing my girlfriend and hauling her away. I shoved down a surge of inappropriate anger and panic. Em could sure as hell take care of herself.

"Emily, do you consent?" the boy asked, his tone notably more respectful, even tentative.

"Fuck yeah," she called back, provoking a wave of laughter and a few scattered whoops. "—But first you gotta catch me, Stubby." Amid more laughter, the boy's lips tightened. Tina nudged my shoulder. "He kinda hates that nickname," she whispered to me.

Set down, Emily looked by far the least naked of the three, hands resting confidently on her slender hips as she winked broadly in my direction.

More names were called, more audience members plucked from around us. "Sarah Upham," said the boy. Middies were beside me again, lifting Emily's mom into the air before my mind had time to make the connection. Her assent was calm. Stripped, she managed to ride the middies' lifted hands like a palanquin. Set down, she was looking straight at me. Somewhere off to my left the boy called another name. Her breasts were massive, round. They swayed heavily when she moved. The crowd jostled me as the middies pressed in, grabbed someone, lifted them. Her eyes hadn't left mine. She turned, displaying a magnificently broad round ass, still gazing at me over her shoulder. Then she smiled, swaying her hips slightly in my direction.

Emily leaned in towards her and said something brief, and she laughed. The spell was broken and I was aware of my surroundings again. Now mother and daughter were talking to each other in a low tone, giggling and glancing back in my direction repeatedly. Feeling my face heat, I repeated Oscar Wilde's dictum to myself: "There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about."

Middies were tying little strips of black crepe-paper around each naked person's neck. "Any game who makes it to midnight without getting caught will receive..." he paused significantly. " ... a fifteen-dollar gift certificate for Maria's Pizza and Subs!"

"Ooh!" said Tina. "It was only five dollars last year. I'd almost consider avoiding being caught for that, if I was game this year."

"I particularly like their subs," she added.

I opened my mouth to ask a question, then thought better of it.

"Those who are caught will receive ... well, I'm sure you guys can come up with something." Stubby continued.

"Hunters, any game whose necklace you take is yours to enjoy. But be sure to make it kind of vicious," he added, waggling a finger at the crowd. "We had some reports last year of Game that wasn't made to suffer. You need to give those guys some incentive to run, or this just becomes another Saturday night orgy."

"Oh, Noes!" a heckler called out, to scattered giggles.

Stubby ignored the remark. "If this remains an issue, we're going back to mandatory paddlings next year—it's inconvenient, but it keeps things reliable.

"Now that's enough lecturing. Lets get this game started."

"Game," he said, addressing the naked beribboned cluster beside us. "Ready ... Set ... Go!" and a jostling mass of white buttocks disappeared into the woods.

"I think my mom likes you," Tina confided to me.

"I think a bear shits in the woods," I replied.

"Ew!" she wrinkled her nose. "I hope not. At least not here. I don't think there are any bears on Nantahack anyway."

On the podium, Stubby, eyes on his wristwatch, was slowly raising his arm."Hunters..." he called out, "Go!" The crowd whooped and surged forward. In a moment I was one of the few stragglers still in the clearing.

I stepped into the woods. The wet smell of green growing things struck me. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out flickering torches in several directions, and the full moon cast enough light that I was soon able to pick my way in relative safety. Crackling leaves all around me signified people—hunters or hunted—moving about in the dark.

I heard a shriek off to my left, then the sound of a struggle, then a steady counterpoint of smacks and moans. Cheers came from the woods around me.

A little later, I emerged into a torchlit clearing and found myself face to face with Mrs. Upham. She was standing at repose, watching me with a little smile on her face.

I took a step forward. She took an equal step back, and her smile broadened a hair. I understood—she'd bent the rules as much as she was willing, now I had to catch her. My cock was swelling, rising at the sight of her nude flesh, her confident, feminine stance. I gathered myself to spring at her, and—

—was struck from behind and went down in a tangle of limbs. "Sorry, sorry!" gasped a young male voice by my ear. Elbows and knees flailed dangerously around me as he scrambled to rise again. Tina bounded into the clearing, breathing heavily, just as he managed to make it to his feet. She sprang forward, tackling him to the ground once more, barely missing landing on top of me.

"Thanks, Vinnie" she gasped, struggling to pin him. "I—uh—almost lost him there. Hah!" the last triumphant shout coming as she managed to grab his crepe garland and rip it from his neck.

The boy beneath her slumped in defeat. She stood, took him by his shaggy hair, and pulled him, none too gently, to his feet, then looked him up and down appraisingly. He was a good half-foot taller than she, slender, with faint tufts of dark hair around his nipples.

"This is Jamie" she announced to me, her hand still gripping his hair. "Isn't he pretty? I've been wanting to get my hands on him for a while."

Like her, his face was flushed, his breath still quick from the chase and struggle. His cock, already a little swollen, twitched at her announcement.

"Uh, sure," I said. "I'm no connoisseur of manflesh, but he looks lovely."

"What should I do to you?" she said to him. "So many yummy options I can barely choose."

Standing beside him, she released his hair and twisted his hands around to the small of his back, holding them there with one hand. "First I think I'll get you hard..." One of her hands slid up the inside of his near thigh. " ... then I'll keep you that way while you please me." With each pulse of his heartbeat, his cock thickened a little. "Keep you dreaming of the feel of my hot little mouth on this lovely head," she said, and flicked her tongue across one nipple, simultaneously tracing his cock's corona with her fingertips. It was rigid now, his hips flexing to try to get more contact with her teasing hand.

"Very good!" she told him and slapped at his cock so that it bobbed about. "Now get down on the ground. I want to use your mouth."

He looked at her, confused. "Down!" she insisted, and shoved at him. He fell onto his hands and knees, and she looked about the grassy clearing, picked a likely fallen log, and sat down on it. She kicked off her Birkenstocks, and wiggled her toes. "Come here, Jamie," she said. "Time for some toe-sucking."