A Game for Some

by Walt A.K.A. Xan

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© Copyright 2020 - Walt A.K.A. Xan - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; bond; rope; oral; gag; flogger; crop; cons; X

All characters are fictitious and any similarities to any persons, living or dead are purely coincidental.

Continues from

Part 3

Waking up to the first 30 seconds of ‘We’re an American Band’, the 1973 song from the group Grand Funk Railroad, I answered my phone knowing it was Sam. My best friend had his own special ringtone so I would know it was him on the other end and actually answer my phone. I didn’t always answer my phone’s default ringtone, especially if I didn’t recognize the number. In my opinion, that’s why God gave man voicemail.

Janey watched me as I got up and walked out of her bedroom. I think she was watching my naked, hairy butt as I scratched it. Maybe I’d ask her when I took the gag out of her mouth and untied her so she could make us breakfast. Janey and I had crashed and burned after running on caffeine and energy drinks for the previous couple of days.

In an effort for Janey to find the endorphin rush from what she called slow-pain, she slept helplessly tied and gagged. She had asked me to do this to her. Actually, begged might be more accurate. She and I were still in our honeymoon phase, but from the beginning she had been quite vocal about enjoying the slow ache and residual stiffness from waking up in the embrace of ropes that had been tightly tied around her body the night before. Being a true rope-slut, she told me that she had always dreamed of a man that would do that for her. Being the rigger, I tied them snuggly, not tightly around her body, exercising my better judgement. However, she was tied for sleep. The two of us were the Yin and Yang of the very definition of the technically correct term, merinthophiles. Janey loved to be tied, and I loved tying her.

Peeling the tape from around her head she expelled her wadding while I released her from the ropes.

“Who was on the phone, Sir?”

“Sam. He wants us to come to the ranch for a couple of days. I told him I’d have to check with you, to make sure that you didn’t have anything that needed your immediate and undivided attention, and if not, I said that we’d enjoy a good barbeque. Is there any reason we shouldn’t go?”

“No, Sir. The only thing I have to do in the foreseeable future is to please you, in any way I can, and make sure that you are as happy as I am, so you’ll stick around and tie me up some more,” and Janey giggled before kissing me.

“Good, because when we take the rental back later, his helicopter will be waiting for us at the airport in Bowling Green. He said that it was already in the air when he called and that he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Beth had begged him to invite us out to their ranch when he untied her last night. Just an FYI, she was tied up and gagged last night when he came out to meet us. That’s why she wasn’t in the truck too. He knew we were coming, and what I intended to do to you, but he didn’t know when, so they were in the middle of playing when we showed up. He reiterated that Beth really misses me.”

“Oh, she does, does she? Did I hear correctly last night when he said that you were her first rigger?”

“Yes Janey, Beth and I have history. She was with me a long time ago, years before I even met you. In our college days, Beth was with me and Sam was with a girl named Moly. One ‘L’. We used to all hang out together, learning and experimenting with BDSM.”

“I suspect there’s a lot more to this story. Will you tell me, please? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but if you were with her, how did the two of them end up together?”

“As an up and coming rigger, I introduced Beth into the world of being a fetish model. Her stage name was Dianna Prinsse, two N’s in Dianna and two S’s instead of a ‘C’ in Prinsse. It was a play on Wonder Woman’s name of Diana Prince. She became a very popular bondage model, with me as her rigger. When she started working with other riggers, she lost her enjoyment in the performing arts. I’ll let her tell you that story. Those were my years in the service, and that period was wrought with trauma for all of us. Moly ended up dying tragically, and while I was overseas, Beth and Sam fell in love and got married. I loved both of them too much to mind, but when I got out of the Army I went out on my own and ran amok in the community. I left a trail of broken hearts among the submissives, trying to fill the hole left in my heart from Beth. It took me years to get her out of my system. Eventually, being a fairly popular rigger ensured that the quantity of women I tied up showed me that Beth was not the end all and be all of submissive women, or the bottoms that merely modeled wearing ropes. Seeing how happy Sam was, and how happy she was with him helped. Now, we’re all back to being friends, and I can see the two of them together and smile because they’re happy. I’m with you now, and you have my undivided attention. If there were still conflicting feelings, ‘we’,” waving my finger back and forth between us, “would not be going to ‘their’ ranch for a barbeque. Sam and I would go pal around, but we wouldn’t ‘all’ get together.”

 Janey had been paying rapt attention to me as I explained all of this and seemed satisfied for the moment. I did suspect that her green-eyed monster would be paying close attention to how Beth and I interacted. I couldn’t blame her. She and I were just now exploring each other on more than a casual level, and Beth and I had decades of history, with BDSM as a big part of that history.

As we packed, Janey wanted to pack a third of her trailer in her suitcase. I narrowed her enthusiasm down to a couple of nice blouses, a couple of skirts, some shorts, tank tops and one pair of jeans, to go riding in. She packed a couple of pieces of lingerie, several pairs of heels and stuffed every crevice in the rest of the suitcase with hose and pantyhose. When I checked on her, I decided to pack her panties in with the bondage gear, because she had completely forgotten to pack any at all. I wondered about this. I packed light and totally casual, figuring this was not an affair for dress clothes. I actually packed more bondage gear than clothes. That made sense to me, considering where we were going and who would be there. At any rate I knew we’d be fine, no matter what. Sam would cover it if anything went off the boards.

While Janey made us a thermos of our energy smoothies and packaged up several loose baggies of capsules, just in case, I made a copy of her rough draft on a thumb drive and pocketed it. I had a feeling it might come in handy.

On the way to drop off the rental, Janey almost ended up in the trunk again, but not for playtime. She pestered me, wanting to know every little detail about Sam, and of course Beth. I told her several anecdotes about our college days, and even what Sam and I were like in high school, including how we met as freshmen in the dojo. I told her about the ongoing competition between us to see which one of us could kick the other one’s ass. This amused her. I’d never really talked about my martial arts background before, and this fascinated her until we dropped off the Taurus.

Janey wanted me to teach her how to fight. I told her that because we lived in Kentucky, that she didn’t need a special license or permit to carry concealed, and it would be better for her to just buy a gun. This frustrated her, until I explained the time and effort she’d have to put into learning my style of martial arts. Then we talked about which pistol she should get and if I’d teach her how to use it. This worked for me.

Sam’s helicopter was one of the Sikorsky S-76 executive variants that only sat four, but the luxury of the passenger compartment made up for it. I found out that this was Janey’s first time in a helicopter and her excitement showed. She squealed and giggled as the helicopter took off and maneuvered around until it leveled off. Our flight time was a little less than an hour because it was little less than 150 miles to Sam’s ranch. We landed behind the house, on the lawn behind their oversized pool.

Sam and Beth were waiting for us on their patio. She was holding onto his arm very possessively and both of them were smiling. Following behind us with our luggage, our pilot just took our bags straight into the house. Janey and I walked around the covered pool to meet my friends. Sam stepped forward and spread his arms, twisting at the trunk with a big grin on his face.

“Welcome to our ranch Janey. Nuestra casa es su casa. Our house is your house. May I introduce you to my wife, Beth. She’s a big fan of yours and is dying to ask a favor from you. Beth?”

Forgetting just how tall Beth was, it came back to me seeing them side by side. Even wearing low-heeled riding boots, Beth was an inch or so taller than Janey, and Janey was wearing five-inch stilettos. Holding their hands between them they did the cheek-kissing greeting, and then with a squeal, Beth just scooped Janey up into a hug, squeezing her tight. Janey made an ‘Oh’ sound and then, feeling the sincerity, hugged her back.

“Will you autograph your books for me, please? I’ve read everything you’ve written, and I love your Mrs. McGovern Mysteries. They are such fun. I can really see Cecelia, ‘among the stacks’ in her prim clothes, and then when she shows the inspectors who the villains really are, well, just tell me you’ll sign my copies, please. I’ve got them stacked up on the table inside. It would mean so much to me. When I made the connection as to who Bat was seeing, I got all excited and told Sam, well, asked him to get the two of you out here so I could meet you. The helicopter was my idea, because I just didn’t want to wait for you two to drive out here. Please, come in and I’ll show you around our humble abode. We’ve got a barbecue planned for later. We’ll let the boys do their own thing and get reacquainted. No doubt bourbon will be involved, but this is girl-time. I have so many questions that only you can answer, and I am just so delighted to finally meet you,” and with another squeal, Beth took Janey’s arm and dragged her through the patio doors into their house. Wide-eyed, Janey looked back over her shoulder and both Sam and I waved her into the house. When the French doors latched behind them, we snickered.

Sam let me use my thumbprint to open the locked glass doors of his outdoor liquor cabinet and choose a bottle from his extensive collection of small batch bourbons. It was a little early to start our debauchery, but this was my oldest and best friend in the world. I pulled down and cracked open a bottle of Blanton’s Single Barrel, poured us each about 3oz and handed Sam his.

“To our women-folk,” and we clinked glasses. Smiling, I savored the nose of this bourbon. Years ago, at Sam’s insistence, this bourbon convinced me to give up my belief that single-malt scotches were a gentleman’s only options.

Sipping our bourbon and gossiping like a couple of hens on his patio, we caught up on what was happening in our lives since the last time we drank and talked like this. I told him all about Janey, and Sam just nodded, with an evil twinkle in his eyes. I knew he had something dastardly planned for her.

A man in a white chef’s jacket came out and took my order for the size, cut, and how I wanted my steak prepared, and what I wanted with it. I knew that Sam raised his own beef on a nearby spread and that if someone put his Wagyu beef side by side with real Japanese Kobe beef, only a gourmet could tell the difference.

Sam lived a good life and spoiled me whenever I came by to see them. I didn’t do it too often, mainly because of Beth. I loved both of them, and truly was okay with them being together, but my personal code of conduct convinced me to limit my exposure to her. Pheromone locks, like the one Beth still had on me, could make even the strongest of wills waver. I would never admit it to Janey, but there was no doubt in my mind that if Sam wasn’t living anymore, Beth could steal my heart away from any woman. On some level, Sam and Beth both knew this, and none of us would let this monster out of the deep well we’d sealed it in years ago. Now all I had to do was keep this from Janey.

Sam took me in and showed me the latest pieces in his firearms collection. Both of us knew that we would head to his personal range to fire a couple of these new-to-him guns before I left. He had an area about two miles away, with high earthen berms surrounding a 500yard rectangular range to contain the reports of his guns away from his horses. This was Kentucky and no neighbor in his right mind would take offense at gunfire, but some of his prize horses were a different matter. So, we’d take ATVs out to his private range and blast away without disturbing anyone or anything. Thinking about it, this would be a good chance to introduce Janey to the aroma of burnt cordite and what it did to testosterone pumpers, as she called us sometimes. Sam had a wide selection of pistols and revolvers, in all of the popular calibers, and we’d just let Janey pick and choose which ones she liked.

At the kitchen table our girls were still chattering about the books. All of Janey’s books were stacked up on the side, and a couple of them were open, I assumed as reference texts. Noticing that they all looked well-read and dog-eared, I leaned over Janey, gave her a kiss on the cheek and slipped the thumb-drive to her.

Whispering in her ear I said, “Sounds like you could make a friend for life by sharing the rough draft of our adventure with someone that appears to be a real fan. On a hunch I thought this might come in handy, so I brought a copy. Reading an advanced copy, after hearing what we did to inspire it would seal the deal with Beth and bond the two of you with a glue no other coin-of-the-realm could buy. It’s your choice of course. Just a suggestion. Sam and I will be close. Have fun.” Above Janey’s head I winked at Beth and nodded to Janey, knowing that that would get the ball rolling. Then I wandered off behind Sam.

A few moments later we heard Beth squeal and make some loud and excited exclamations. Sam and I stuck our heads in and saw Beth dragging Janey by the hand into the library. Following them in, we saw Beth at the terminal of their Apple desktop opening Janey’s rough draft. Janey stood over her with a hand on each of Beth’s shoulders telling her all about the outfit she’d worn, and the effect her British accent had on me as we role-played the latest scenario between Cecelia McGovern and Rodney Longstreet. Sam looked at me, grinned, gave me a thumbs-up and motioned for me to leave with him to give them a chance to bond. I nodded and followed him.

Once we were out of earshot, I told him about our adventure from my perspective and what Janey looked like all tied up in front of her computer to record everything for her publisher. Laughing, he poured me another glass of sipping bourbon and we toasted the very minimal chance that we’d have to break up a catfight later. He called his chef and told him to delay our barbeque for a couple of hours. We both knew that Beth was a speed-reader, with a high IQ and figured that a two-hour delay would give her a chance to digest most if not all of the story, from both the screen and from Janey, her new best friend.

On the patio, with a warm evening breeze blowing across us from the south and the multiple bug-zappers snapping away, we enjoyed our meal. I was used to indulging like this when I came out to visit them, but Janey, more used to burgers and hot dogs at a barbecue was astounded by the taste and quality of a meal that would shame many offerings from high-end restaurants. When Sam bragged that they ate like this all the time, Beth pulled his covers, telling her new friend that this fare was usually reserved for guests, or special occasions. Trying to sound gallant, Sam told Janey that she could expect a meal like this anytime she came by, with or without me. The women just looked at each other, sharing a tolerance and smiling slyly.

At Beth’s suggestion, we all took a stroll down to their stables. Sam and I carried our glasses of bourbon, and to my surprise, Janey and Beth both carried large clear mugs of Janey’s energy smoothies, finishing them off way before Sam and I finished our glasses. I tried to smile and appreciate everyone else’s enthusiasm as Sam gave Janey a running dissertation on this horse and that horse as they walked down the long row of stalls. Unfortunately, I never really understood horses, even though I had tried for the sake of my friends and their love for these big smelly beasts that seemed to shit everywhere. Some things, like tree names, foreign travel and the different types of horses just meant nothing to me.

Beth had been wearing her riding clothes all day, consisting of those skin-tight pants with the leather inserts on the insides of her legs, riding boots and some kind of equestrian-brand polo shirt. To be truthful, I knew that this whole equestrian garb got some guys all excited, but looking at Beth’s waist-length, thick, straight, coal-black hair did much more for me. Memories of it flying behind her, straight out and parallel to the ground as she bounced up and down in the stirrups, galloping on one of these basically brown beasts made me smile. Memories like that kept me from thinking what tight ropes and fetish wear did for her long svelte body.

Standing about twenty yards away from them, I was staring at some of the tack hanging on the walls, letting my mind wander when Beth came up to me. She hugged me from behind, her hands on my thighs and hips, and snuggled her body up against mine. Her natural musk put a smile on my face.

“Tell me Bat,” she purred, “are you as proprietary with this woman as you were with me, or have you mellowed over the years?”

Still staring through the window and off across the fields, not daring to turn and look at her, I replied, “It’s not like I’d whore her out, or allow frequent sexual encounters with a host of strangers, but I figured the four of us would do a little playing while we were here, and she wouldn’t be the first woman Sam and I have shared, nor will she, in all likelihood, be the last. You know I love you and Sam, and if Janey is willing and wants more than a leer and a peck on the cheek from my best friend, she’s a grown, sexually aware woman able to make her own decisions. I have no proprietary limitations on how she interacts with my closest friends.”

“Good. She and I talked about this and both of them have my blessings.”

Beth looked back at them and gave Janey a thumbs-up. Janey went over, picked up a coil of brown rope, handed it to Sam and took her skirt and blouse off. With tits like hers, Janey rarely wore a bra and except for her thong and heels, she was now basically naked. Before Sam tied her up, she helped him out of his pants and shorts, then turned around to get her wrists and arms tied. When she was tied, Janey knelt down in front of him, took my friend in her mouth and did what she told me she loved to do. I smiled, watching her from a different angle. She looked enthusiastic.

With her hand rubbing my crotch area without actually stroking my dick through my pants, Beth asked me, “And what are you going to do to me, Bat?”

Looking her in the eye, I flatly stated, “Nothing.”

Smirking, she said, “You know I could force you to do something to me. I do remember how to push your buttons.”

“Ever see that movie, ‘Tombstone’, where Kurt Russell looks at Val Kilmer playing Doc Holiday and says, “I’m an oak”, when Dana Delany comes into the bar? Well, in this instance, I’m an oak.”

“Bat, honey, you know it’ll raise more red flags with Janey if you do nothing to me, than if you and I played a little in front of the two of them.”

“I’ll give you an acorn, and that’s all you’re going to get from me.”

Beth laughed and walked back to play with Janey’s hair while she tried to suck Sam’s brains out through his urethra. By the look on his face, it was working. I had warned him that she was a world-class cocksucker, and up until now I’m sure he thought I was just boasting, trying to impress him.

After she finished, I came up, kissed Janey, which surprised her and said, “You did good darlin’. I was watching his face and I’m sure he wants another one, just like that one, as soon as his balls can manufacture and gather a half-dozen sperm together, which is the minimum amount necessary for another go. She does suck every last swimmer out of you, doesn’t she?”

“I’ll say. Beth is good, really good, and she’s learned many tricks over the years, but Janey my dear, you could teach her a couple things. Would you care to stay on an extra day or two,” and Sam threw his head back and laughed.

Still tied and on her knees, Janey looked up at Sam and said, ‘It’s not just skill and technique. You gotta love sucking cock like I love sucking cock,” and she giggled, rubbing her head against Beth’s leg, with affection.

“I think showers all around sounds like a good idea. Janey, I want one of those with the hot water spraying on me. Sam equipped all of his showers with those everlasting water heaters, so bring two ropes in with you when we get to our suite in the west wing. That is where we are, right,” I asked?

“As usual, it’s yours. If you came by more often, I’d just make that your permanent home away from home, with your own key and everything,” he said.

“Thanks. Maybe when I grow up a little more, but the wild geese are still flying overhead, and I hear their call occasionally.”

“Janey, talk to him. Suck his dick three or more times a day, hopefully draining that wanderlust out of him. Put earplugs in his ears to drown out the call of those damned wild geese, and keep him close,” Beth said plaintively. “Sam and I do not see enough of our oldest and dearest friend. Please?”

“I’m going to do everything I can to keep this man around. He makes me very happy, and I’ve never known this level of happiness ever before in my life. I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep him right here. With me, - - - with us, and away from those wild geese.”

I just looked back and forth between Janey and Beth, shook my head and headed back to the house and the showers.

When Janey joined me and took off all of her clothes, she looked at me and asked, “You still love her don’t you? Should I leave?”

“I love Sam, too. Do you want to leave because I love both of them? Yes, I love her. It’s not like how I love you, but it’s the same ache in my heart like seeing a picture of an old dog that you loved, that lived her years and went to heaven, like all dogs do. Beth’s a picture of an old dog. An old beloved dog. I can’t take that dog for walks anymore. I can’t wrestle with that dog over the toy she wants to play fetch with but won’t let go of. I can’t kick that dog out of bed because she’s hogging the whole bed and both her share and my share of the sheets. I can’t get that wonderful feeling when I hear that dog bark hello and wag her tail when she sees me coming home, wriggling out of her skin because she’s so happy to see me. I can’t forget the grief when I had to bury that dog when she went to heaven to play with all the other dogs up there. Beth’s a ‘picture’ of a lost and dead dog. I buried that dog when I was 7,000 miles away and got the letter telling me that she had fallen in love with and married my best friend. It was my fault for leaving her, and for serving my country that I love too. But what’s left is just a picture of a dead dog. That dog is dead and buried. Unfortunately, I come over to visit with my best friend and the picture of that dog kisses me on the cheek and brings the two of us glasses of bourbon. I know my dog is dead and gone, but that picture of my dog is not something I want to roll up, stick inside a collar and walk around the block. I want a real flesh and blood woman to buckle a collar around and I want to walk her around the block. I want to play fetch with her, not some damned picture of an old dog. Get it? Right here and right now, I love you. You are that flesh and blood woman, not some picture of a dog that died years ago. Now get a shower, go down and play with Sam. He’s got something special planned for you. You have my blessings to have fun. I’m going for a walk, maybe a run. I need some space and some air.”

“But it’s dark out there, and you don’t know what’s out there.”

“I’ve survived in the dark against hundreds of bad men, real enemies hunting me and wanting to shoot me with AK47s and RPGs. I’ve survived in the dark, alone with snakes, and scorpions, packs of wild and hungry dogs and all manner of larger predators. I’m a survivor. I’ll be fine, but right now I need space and I need air. Lots of both. No, I don’t want you to leave. I want you to go have fun with my best friends, both of them and let me and my PTSD go for a run out in the Kentucky blue grass. I need space, and I need air.”

I kissed her and went out the door. I was far out in the fields before I saw multiple lights sweeping the grounds far behind me. Far enough away already, I turned and headed for the trees a mile or so away. I’d be safer in the trees, and I’d be alone.

My PTSD is both wonderful and terrifying, usually at the same time. Mine throws me into total survival mode and I know that all I need to survive is me, but if there’s anyone else around, I never know if I can protect them and survive myself, so I go out on my own. I’m safe alone. I can survive when I’m alone and not let anyone else get hurt. So, tonight, I’m out here alone. All my senses are on high alert. I can hear the cars and semi-trucks travelling on the expressway a mile away. I can hear a pack of coy dogs chasing something in a thicket or a hollow close by. I can hear the owl following me through the trees. All of that is alright though. I have my folding knife. I have my small 9mm and one extra clip. I have my lighter. I have my mind. I have my training, and I’m alone. I don’t have anyone but me to worry about. My eyes have adjusted to the dark, and the waxing half-moon is showing me everything I need. I am alone. I have space and I have air, and I’m alone. No one’s hunting me. It’s just me, the night, the stars and nature. And I’m alone. I’ve made a friend of my PTSD. It’s with me, and I’m alone. I’m safe when I’m alone.

In the distance I hear and see a helicopter searching with a spotlight. I head deeper into the trees. I’m alone and I’m safe when I’m alone. I don’t want to hurt anybody. I just want to be alone. I’m safe when I’m alone.

“Bat? Hey buddy, c’mon. Bat? I know you’re around here somewhere. Bat? I’ve got some bacon biscuits, some water, and a flask of Pappy. Bat? Where are you, buddy?”

Sam was sitting on a horse almost right below the tree I was in. The dogs had gotten a little too close last night and I didn’t want to shoot any of them, so I just climbed up in this tree and listened to them chase something smaller and easier to catch. Sam had another saddled horse with him, and he was looking for me two-dimensionally. I was up in a tree and he was looking for me on the ground. How he got this close I don’t know, but I decided that Pappy Van Winkle and bacon biscuits sounded good about right now.

“Coming down, just give me a minute.”

“Oh, there you are. I never would have looked up for you. Good hiding spot buddy. Here’s the flask. You want a biscuit?”

It was barely morning and after eating, hydrating and making a serious dent in the pint flask of Pappy, I climbed up on that damned smelly horse and we let them walk us out of the woods. Sam was in no hurry, and he never asked what was wrong, or why I had taken off like that. We talked about the taste of Pappy, woodpeckers, squirrels and whatever else was around us. We let the horses just plod along, and long after the sun got hot overhead, we made it back to the ranch. Sam handed the horses off to a stable hand and we went in for more bourbon because the flask was empty. From a plate of homemade breakfast sandwiches that his chef had made for us, we filled our bellies and drank the neck and shoulders off another bottle of Pappy.

“It was a full-blown PTSD attack Sam. I needed to be alone, and that possessed me, so I just took off. Sorry if I scared anyone. I just needed to be alone. I’m safe when I’m alone during one of those attacks.”

“Janey ran down and told us what you told her, about the picture of the dead dog and all that. Sorry you feel like that. I can understand it, and that’s okay. What you went through the day you got that letter from Beth would have shaken anyone. I’m surprised you don’t have more of those PTSD attacks. I’m happy you don’t, but they wouldn’t surprise me if you did. You’re safe now. It’s just the two of us. Well, not really. There’s also Pete, he’s the chef, Carla the cleaning lady, and the outdoor staff. You know, stable hands, trainers, grounds keepers, and I think there’s a couple of guys fixing some of the fences around here somewhere, but basically, it’s just you and me. They’ll leave us alone.”

More than halfway down the belly of the bottle, staring at the wall I said, “Yea, mail call was in the late morning that day, and later we learned that a full regiment of their Republican Guard hit the compound right at noon, when we were supposed to be eating. First their withering mortar fire right on the compound killed so many. It even killed the camp dog, and then they came in from all sides. From everywhere. It was bad. Only four of us from our short battalion made it out of there alive. We ran out into the desert alone, under the cover of darkness, each one of us heading in a different direction to throw them off our trail. They were still torturing and killing the wounded when we left. We could hear the screams. I had my knife, my lighter, one of their AK’s and later I found the letter in my pocket. Sam, I’m sorry if I worried you, but I had to be alone. I had to. I’m safe when I’m alone. I needed to be alone.”

“It’s alright buddy. It’s just you, me and Pappy. I got about a half a case left and I can probably get more, plus we got other bottles of small batch around here too. Pete will make us anything we want to eat, and it’s just us buddy. It’s just you and me.”

Sam knew what to do and did everything right to help me come back down. Alcohol might not work for every veteran, but this time it did for me. My best friend and I were very drunk when Janey and Beth returned home. Sam and I were swapping lies about our professors from college and I found I could laugh again. The women made themselves scarce with their packages from their shopping trip. Half-eaten Wagyu cheeseburgers and gourmet French-fries kept us company, and the bourbon flowed. It was just the two of us.

The next morning, Beth went crashing into Janey’s room, physically dragged her out of bed and said, “Wake up sweetie, you have got to see this. I have no idea how either one of them can even stand with what they put away last night, but they’re suited up and stretching out. C’mon, you’ve never seen anything like this, and you’ll really regret it if you don’t see it now, because it doesn’t happen often. C’mon sweetie, it is so worth it.”

Sam and I were in our faded gray gi’s and doing katas side by side out on the patio. This was warm-up and a way to focus us. Our gi’s had been black many a long year ago, but now they were just faded and old, like we were. They were ours though, and they were part of our martial art’s history and mindset. We started with all of the white belt forms, working through all the katas for each of the eleven belts from white through third degree black. With each set, our movements became cleaner, sharper, crisper and more focused. When we were done, we stripped off our gi tops, padded our hands, feet, and heads, bowed to each other and started to spar.

“My God, Beth, they’re going to kill each other. I’ve never seen men move that quickly and they’re actually hitting each other. We have to stop them.”

“No. Do nothing. They learned in a combat-oriented school and never believed in that ‘Tag your it’ shit you see in some schools. Both of them love each other too much to hurt the other one, but this is as close to real mortal combat as you’ll ever see. Both of them are deadly fighters. They have been since they were teen-agers. I know, I watched them grow into this. This is what they call sparring, and without the pads, if they connected with any of those blows, one of them would be either crippled or dead. This is no joke, and this is why I wanted you to see what these two could really do. Each one of them is deadly in combat, fast and brutal, and this is how they practice. Look at them move. Aren’t they beautiful? Even as old as they are, they fight like gods, who are powerful, fast and deadly. I don’t know about you, but this shit makes me wet, and I feel oh so feminine knowing what they can do and the gentleness they display when they touch us with those hands that could kill others so easily. Look at them go at each other. Both were drunk as lords just a few hours ago. Look at them now. Gods, I tell you, gods of the arena. Did you know? Or even guess at what Bat could do?”

“No, we just talked about his martial arts for the first time the other day, but he never said anything about this level of intensity. He said it would be hard to learn, but I never realized he was at this level.”

“I’ve seen them do this before, and damnit woman, it makes me wet watching these men, our lovers, knowing that they are also potential killers.”

“I never knew.”

“Few do. God, they are so beautiful doing this.”

Sam and I eventually stopped by mutual consent, bowed and after we did the bro-hug we went in. Two puddles of smiling, wriggling, and dripping hormone-factories attacked us, one each, petting us, cooing and drying us off as an excuse to be touching us. Both of us petted them back, snuggling and cuddling them, then with no indication, we switched. I did to Beth what I had just done to Janey, and Sam did the same thing to my woman. They squealed, squirmed, giggled and both of them submitted to anything we wanted to do to them. Then we all went up and took showers.

During breakfast, they told us about taking the helicopter up to Chicago and going to certain stores to find just the right clothes and accessories to interest us. Janey told me that she spent what her publisher told her she could expect from her advance for this new novel and couldn’t wait to model some of these things for my approval.

Sam called from their bedroom and we decided it was playtime with our women. Their basement doubled as a playroom, with specially selected pieces of furniture that didn’t look unusual or out of place. It could fool the vanilla normies but worked very well for and with our personal proclivities. I told him we’d meet them down there.

Janey put on a pair of crotchless pantyhose with a seam running up the back, a super-sheer, tight, scoop-necked micro-mini dress and an expensive pair of two-tone oxfords with a six-inch stiletto peg, which perched her up on her toes. She kissed me and posed for me, excited by the enthusiasm I expressed for her brand-new outfit. I couldn’t decide if she was wearing a piece of lingerie, or an actual dress, but looking at her, it didn’t really matter.

Sam met us in the basement with a large trainer-style ball-gag in his hand and a spool of fishing line in the other. Janey was about to find a new experience in her expectations for slow-pain.

Backing her up to their stripper pole, Sam used rope to tie her wrists together behind the pole and a longer piece to tie her ankles together and her new heels on her feet. After making out with her for several minutes, mauling her body in the process he shoved that ball-gag into her mouth, stretching her lips around it, and started tightly buckling the straps around her head. Janey moaned and started to drool almost immediately because the ball was so big.

With no discernable pattern, Sam started to wrap the fishing line around her body, from her shoulders to her shoes, very chaotically, knotting, cinching and securing it so it pulled furrows into her flesh as he tightened it up. He pulled it tighter across the fleshier parts of her body, but just tight enough to keep her in place across places like her shins. Sam used his experience and expertise to tighten this bondage on her until it looked like it would cut through her if she took a deep breath. Janey purred, moaned, and nodded encouragement as she felt what this would do to her.

Sam took his time, lightly stroking the bulges her flesh created by the furrows his fishing line made, making her start to wriggle but always stopping quickly as her bondage tightened up. This made her moan even louder, which caused long runnels of droll to slide passed the ball and leave stains on her new dress where her tits wouldn’t let it go further down. This whole thing was definitely a new experience for Janey, and she seemed to be loving it.

Watching closely, to pick up his techniques so I could reproduce this at a later date, I noticed that Janey was redolent with the scent of a very aroused woman. Her eyes widened when she moved, tugging the thin line tightly and a little painfully against her flesh, and when she could stand still, they closed halfway as she luxuriated in how good this felt on her helpless body.

Sam used his head to motion back to the couch, and when I looked, Beth was sitting there waiting for me. Lounging back, her long nylon-clad legs were crossed at the knee and her arms were stretched out along the back of the sofa. Her white mini skirt set off her sheer black hosiery and barely covered her crotch. I saw no panties. Covering her B-cup tits was a short-sleeved fuzzy pink midriff sweater top, showing her flat and still toned belly. Her long black hair fell on both sides of her body and really set off the colors of her outfit. Her eyes were adorned with evening make-up and the whore-red lipstick she wore enhanced her smile enticingly.

In one hand, she slowly and gently wagged the long tails of a flogger back and forth, like a cat would swish its tail to express intent. In the other she lightly and slowly tapped the top of the leather cushions with a long, braided crop. I knew that crop was evil. I’d given it to her as a wedding present when I got back from overseas. It was made of fine woven leather over a thin very flexible core of spring steel. I’d chosen that one and given it to her so Sam could cut her rounded butt up when he caned her with it. Now, she was suggesting that ‘I’ should do that to her.

Beth had always been a heavy masochist, and we sometimes had to delay photo shoots while her bruises healed enough to cover them with make-up. Many times, we just adjusted her outfit and shot around them, but Beth liked her bruises as much as she liked her ropes. Surprisingly tough for being so thin made Beth an amazing woman, at least in my mind, and I guess in Sam’s too. He did marry her and was still regularly playing with her.

Smirking at her I recognized her set-up. As soon as I did, her eyebrow shot up and her leg started to wag up and down. Beth didn’t like to wear high heels, and the pink come-fuck-me-pumps she was wearing now had at least a six-inch, possibly taller stiletto peg. The cut was skeletal, low on the sides and across the toe to show a lot of toe-cleavage. Normally a pair like these would make me smile, but to provoke me further, Beth let the one ‘slip’ off of her wagging foot and dangle on the tip of her toe. I shook my head.

“Okay, you still know exactly how to push my buttons, and as Kurt Russell sarcastically said to himself when he saw Dana Delany riding side-saddle on that mare, ‘Yea, I’m an oak’.”

With a fistful of hair in each hand, I pulled her up and off that couch and drug her under the chandelier hook in the center of their high-ceilinged basement. Tying her wrists together in front of her with some 10mm hemp that Sam handed me, I attached her single cinch to the hook and used the electric winch to hoist her off of her feet, keeping her stretched out toes about an inch off the floor. Both of her heels were kicked off and I laughed as I used some 6mm hemp to tie her ankles together and then after fitting her heels back onto her feet, I tied them there, tightly, making it impossible for her to use them to provoke me further. She laughed at our game, too, smiling when she heard me pop open my folding knife next to her ear.

“Is it still as sharp as you used to keep it,” she purred?

With a fistful of that luxurious long black hair in my left hand, I reached around her and started to slowly and easily slice through the fuzzy pink sweater she wore. I took my time and shredded that midriff sweater off of her, pocketing larger pieces to later use as waddings.

“White, black, gray or any other pastel color, yes, but pink? You know I hate fuzzy pink sweaters, yet you had to wear one to push another one of my buttons. Okay. Let’s see if I still remember how to push your buttons.”

I pulled her skirt off, picked the flogger up off the sofa, came back, and with no warm-up started pounding her back, butt and thighs, both front and back. Her body writhed, adding to the swing the impacts of the flogger caused.

Seeing Janey’s expression, Sam started touching her and explained a few things to her by whispering in her ear.

“If you were more familiar with the tools of discipline, you would know that the flogger he’s using has soft tails and it is built to be thuddy, and that even though it looks like a vicious beating, he’s using the same precision our martial arts taught us to only hit non-vital areas of her body. He’s also using a wide-splat technique that does not injure. Later, one or the other of us will explain more about impact play, but make no mistake, he is not injuring her. As much of a masochist as Beth is, he would never injure her. Hurt her, surely, but not one of his strikes are injurious. Just pay attention to her face. Beth is very expressive when she’s getting beat. Especially by Bat.”

Beth spun, kicked her bound legs, writhed and jerked as I pounded her.

“You did provoke this, so just settle down. The real pain is coming up shortly. Are you ready for it?”

“Bring it Bat. I’m a big girl. I can take pain from you.”

“You won’t sit a saddle for a week or more.”

“That’s what stirrups are for. Should I scream when you cut up my ass?”

“You’re not gagged, are you?”

“No gag stops a woman from screaming. It muffles the noise, but you need to answer my question. Can Janey take listening to me scream like you know I will?”

With my fist back in her hair, pulling her head back I said, “Scream woman. Let it out. Loud and proud. Let it all out, because blood will flow and stain the leather of that crop.”

“Won’t be the first time. Sam christened it in my blood the night you gave it to me, and it’s cut me up several times over the years since.”

“Time to do it again,” and I slashed it upwards and into the sweet spot of her butt, where the curve of her ass met the tops of her thighs. Beth screamed, and continued to scream as I marked up her ass, giving her the pain I knew she still loved. Sam kept Janey from panicking, using his hands to hold her still and a droning, measured tone to explain the nature of masochists and the sadists that played with them. When Beth hung limply, panting and exhausted I pulled her head back again. A crooked smile was there, but not one tear had stained her face. I kissed her, and few would mistake her body’s betrayal as she spasmed and came.

Watching Beth hanging there, Sam smiled at me, handed me a glass of Pappy and said, “Welcome back. She’s been waiting for you to do that to her for years. I think I kept your lovely lady pacified, but you know her better than I do, so you should probably check on her. Take your time though. Drink your bourbon. You need it to rehydrate your system. She ain’t going anywhere.”

Looking at Janey, we both laughed and the two of us plopped down, sitting none too gracefully on the sofa, trying not to spill our bourbon.

Later, after playing with her bulging skin, enjoying this more and more as I did, I unbuckled the straps of her gag. A flood of drool fell out of her mouth when the ball was popped out and her mouth stayed open and her eyes were wide as she looked at Beth, still limp, exhausted and quietly hanging there. I cut the fishing floss off of Janey’s body and eventually released the ropes from around her feet, ankles and wrists. My fingers traced the thin red marks left by the fishing line and Janey giggled, because it tickled.

“May I,” and Janey indicated that she wanted to go to her friend?

“Sure. She needs to hang there for a while longer, fully absorbing and wrapping her head around the pain, but you can be with her. She will no doubt be a little out of it, and more responsive after I take her down and cuddle her for a while, to tell her all of her button pushing is forgiven, but sure. Satisfy your curiosity. Tell you what. Ask Sam to tell you about this part of Beth.”

She poured both of us another glass of bourbon, handed me mine while I sat on the couch and took Sam his glass. With his arm around her shoulder, he playfully and occasionally reached down to tickle her nipple, which made her squirm and giggle. Sam began to lecture a new student about corporeal impact play, how both sides of the same coin perceived the give and take, and how it was different from the type of masochism that she enjoyed. His dissertation on the mechanisms of pain was in my opinion masterful, and I wondered if she was absorbing it, or if she was just lost in his voice. I’d know later, if she ever tempted me to open the door to this side of masochism and show her the world Beth loved so intensely.

Janey knelt between Sam’s legs on one side of their long couch, and I cuddled Beth, nude and wrapped in a blanket, taking up the rest of the couch. Curled up against me I reached into the blanket to play with her new tits.

“How long have you had these?”

“Bat, we’re all getting old, and the tits you used to play with were getting all saggy and wrinkled. I wanted to feel beautiful again, so with permission from Sam, I brought them back to when I was a young girl. You like them?”

“If I said ‘no’, I misunderstood the question,” and both of us laughed.

“You’re still using that old dodge. Now answer me, Bat. Do you like them or not? I still can’t get my husband to say yea or nay. He seems to like playing with them, but he has yet to tell me he likes them. What about you?”

“Yes Beth, on you they look good. Personally, I like Janey’s, but with her kneeling right here, would you expect me to say anything different?”

The women looked at each other and laughed.

“It’s not a competition you know. These fit my body style, and my new sister’s look lovely on her. I think we both chose well, without the jaded influence of juveniles like you two. I’ve often thought that Sam would have bought me a pair of G-cups if he had any influence on what I wore, but I like my nice little B-cup titties.”

Janey looked up and asked, “Who needs more bourbon? I know I do. Beth, honey? What about you?”

We all laughed. Both women got up and after handing us more sipping bourbon, Janey started to suck Sam’s hard-on, and Beth did her best to please me with her mouth. Sam and I just smiled.

p class="story5l">Continues in

04.07.2020

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