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; M+/f+; bond; rope; chair; costume; gag; hood; blindfold; tape; outdoors; roleplay; cons; X

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

Continues from

Part 4

“Sam, I like sucking your dick, but what am I going to have to do for you to get you to tell me some of those wild stories you promised to tell me about Bart, when he was younger? I think my toenails need some curling, and you promised,” she said rubbing one of her E-cup tits against his arm.

Laughing he said, “Well, for one thing, neither Beth nor I know him as Bart. He’s been Bat to us since we were all in high school together. One of his childhood heroes used to be Bat Masterson, another Bartholomew, from the old west, and the nickname stuck. After seeing a picture of Bat Masterson one time, he even tried to grow a big handlebar mustache, but Beth made him shave it off. She said it didn’t fit his face and made him look silly. Personally, I think he just hadn’t grown into it, yet. He was skinnier then and now that he’s packing man-weight, I think that he could pull it off. What do you think?”

“I have noticed that both of you call him Bat, and even though he’s always been Bart to me since I met him, I think my ‘Sir’ would look very handsome wearing a long, thick and bushy ‘stash’. Of course, I think he looks handsome now, but I can see the cowboy in him, so Bat it is. Have you seen him in his Stetson? Oh, my. He takes my breath away when he wears one. The cowboy I see in him makes me shiver and wriggle when he wears that hat.” 

“I bought him his first Stetson, for just that reason,” Sam said. “He looks good in one and I always saw the cowboy in him. It was his attitude and rugged individualism. The only problem with that persona is that he doesn’t like horses. I’ve tried to influence his loutish ways, but no matter what kind of steed I put under him, he just complains about how they shit everywhere, gather flies all the time and he continually makes other rude comments about the most noble companion a man can have.”

“Dogs Sam. Dogs helped us crawl out of the caves and they were man’s most loyal and necessary ally, long before the cavemen ever domesticated those damn smelly beasts,” I said.

“Boys, boys,” Beth scolded. “You’ve belabored that argument for decades, and I think that now you just like to hear yourselves talk.”

Thoroughly amused by our rapport, Janey’s laughter was delightful. We were heading back out to the stables so Beth could get my slave up on a horse. Both were wearing equestrian garb, much like what Beth wore when the two of them met. Janey looked extra short in low-heeled riding boots, but in my mind that just emphasized her curves. She was definitely a curvy bundle of woman and I liked it. Beth’s long and lean body had its own charms, but with age, my tastes had changed. I still appreciated Beth’s look, but now I wanted my hands appreciating Janey’s body. Tits and hips worked for me and made me smile.

Ben, the stable manager brought out horses for me and Sam, already saddled and Beth selected a horse for Janey before getting up on her favorite. Ben saddled Janey’s mount and made sure she got up on it correctly. Sam told Janey all about our horses, their pedigree, and why these were the best choices, but I quickly tuned him out, zoning off on fantasies of Janey bouncing up and down in the saddle with her hands tied behind her back and a bandana gag between her teeth. I knew that that wasn’t practical, at least not until she got much better at riding, but my mind’s eye didn’t need the reality of safety to make me smile. 

Beth noticed my leer and sitting lightly in the saddle she pulled her arms behind her back until her elbows touched and cocked her head towards Janey. I nodded and we both laughed. 

Not waiting, Beth took off at a gallop and I took off after her, staying just a few yards behind her, spurring my thoroughbred to keep up with hers. Later, when Sam and Janey caught up to us as Beth and I gave our horses a breather, Janey looked quizzically at me.

“I said I didn’t like them, but I never said I didn’t know how to ride one of these beasts. No one can be around these two for any length of time and not know how to sit a horse.”

Again, Janey laughed. She seemed to be really enjoying it here.

Looking at Beth she asked, “Honey? How can you ride like that after the beating your butt took last night? I know I couldn’t.”

“How can a little thing like you stand in six-inch heels and not be screaming after five minutes in them?”

“Point taken. We each have our strong points. Having been short all my life, I like heels, and the slow-pain they give me after wearing them for a while makes me feel all feminine and sexy. Bat seems to like them, so it’s a labor of love. Wearing them for someone that appreciates them, like Bat, makes it all worthwhile for me.”

“And I like getting my butt beat and turned into hamburger by someone that knows how to do it right. Both of these two are wonderfully talented and imaginative sadists and both know how to make me smile.”

“I’d like some girl-time with you to talk about that. I can see, now, that I’m depriving Bat of something that seems to make him surprisingly happy. I was watching his face closely while he was beating you, and I’ve never seen that side of him before. He lit up and there was real fire in his eyes. I want to be able to put that fire in his eyes too.”

Sam laughed and said, “Marry me and don’t give him any for a couple of decades or so, and he’ll get that fire in his eyes for you too.”

Beth spun in her saddle and glared at her husband. I laughed.

“That’s one way, but there are easier ways, too. Can you hear that Sam? I think Pappy’s calling us. Race you back,” and I took off at a gallop.

Over an hour later we were drying in the sun and reclining by the pool, sipping Pappy and talking when we saw our women hand their mounts off to Ben and start to walk our way. Kneeling down next to my chaise lounge, Janey stared into my eyes, bravely trying to smile.

“Okay, string me up and beat me like you did to Beth last night.”

“No, no, no, no, no, not like I did to Beth. If I’m going to beat you, I want you to come back for more of the same at a later date. I’m going to start you off slow, and let you learn to appreciate a good bruising. Do you remember telling me that you sometimes liked to grind against a crotch-rope during a spanking? Were you just saying that, or did you mean it?”

“That’s okay with me. I can wrap my head around that,” said Janey.

“What woman doesn’t like to grind against a crotch-rope when she’s getting spanked,” exclaimed Beth?

Laughing, Sam said, “I’ve got something special planned for you. You and your crotch-rope will have a front row seat to watch Janey get spanked. Now both of you, either take your clothes off for some skinny dipping, or go put on skimpy bikinis and come back here and get wet with us.”

Beth got a worried but intrigued look in her eyes knowing the depths of her husband’s sadism and imagination. Janey bounced up and both of them went into the house. 

Janey’s bikini was probably less than two dozen square inches of cloth, total, held together by strings, and Beth’s wasn’t much bigger. Naturally, once we were all in the pool, both of them got dunked and mauled by both of us for the audacity of their tease. Obviously, that was their plan all along and Sam and I just played right into it. They were delightful nymphs. Pete served us tacos by the pool, and we insisted on getting the girls to drink. They had frozen marguerites, and we had bourbon. All was right in the world. 

Laying out on loungers to get some sun, Janey and Beth babbled about directions for her next Mrs. McGovern novel, because they had decided to write another one as co-authors. Janey had convinced Beth to stretch her creative imagination and suppressed talents and the two of them became as thick as thieves, as the expression goes. They conspired about a new storyline, and how they could get Sam and me to play parts, ‘to inspire the realism’ for them. I liked the possibilities unfolding with this.

While the girls went to change into their ‘writing’ clothes, I was watching Jimmy, who was obviously their Jack-of-All-Trades around the ranch. Paying attention, I recognized him as the pilot that had flown us out here, and now he was setting up another Apple desktop right next to the one already in their library. He was tying the two of them together so that they could be used in tandem, with the contents from one screen showing up on the other screen at the same time, so Janey and Beth could start their efforts as co-authors.

“Jimmy’s invaluable around here,” said Sam. “He comes from a long line of Gentlemen's gentlemen back in England but having decided to stay in the States after his education, he allowed me to hire him from his father’s service. He’s worked for Beth and me for almost five years. I needed some help and now Jimmy does almost everything for me around here.”

“Kinda’ like a butler?”

“Oh, he’s way more than that. I’d say he’s more like a majordomo. He’s our pilot and chauffeur, handles my security around here, keeps the rest of the staff in line, maintains all the electronics around here, and even does the shopping if we need something special. Naturally, Carlotta shops for the household goods to keep this place up, and Pete buys the groceries, but Jimmy handles just about everything else around the ranch, except the stables. Ben takes care of my horses. Jimmy’s a good man. You’ll like him once you get to know him. If you’d come around more often, well, we’ve already talked about that. Maybe now that you and Beth have buried the hatchet, and considering how close her and Janey are getting, you won’t be such a stranger. I miss you. Having you around here is good for me.”

A really bizarre idea flashed into my mind and I shelved it for future consideration. A lot of this idea would hinge on the efforts our women were making, and the rapport building between them. Sam was right. Beth and I had buried the hatchet, and the friction between us had smoothed out. I was looking at her differently now. I would never consider her in the role of a full-time lover again, but she was more than just Sam’s wife that had really pissed me off at one time. The walls she and I had between us were crumbling, and this whole foursome was beginning to feel a lot like real family to me. I still wanted a life with Janey though. She was good for me and sated my fascination for bondage without diving too far into the sadism that Beth brought out in me. A little goes a long way with me anymore, and even though I still wanted to broaden Janey’s horizons a little, keeping her helpless and costumed for my interests sounded just fine with me.

Janey and Beth came back in wearing their ‘writing clothes’ which consisted of turn-of-the-century garb like the Cecelia McGovern outfit Janey had worn for our cos-play adventure. Wearing lighter material this time but still basically covered from head to toe in the Victorian fashion, Janey was wearing her new oxfords instead of the boots. In my mind, six-inch pegs were six-inch pegs and they did fit her sexy librarian persona. 

Beth was wearing a similar period piece, with the exception of her heel height. Actually, she was wearing ankle boots, but hers only made her four inches taller. Her long hair was up in a bun on the top of her head and both of them walked in with their backs straight and their heads held high in proper British form. These two had obviously picked up these clothes when they’d gone to Chicago on their shopping spree. Invited to be a co-author, I had no doubt that Beth had sprung for these new costumes, and maybe more. There was nothing tawdry about them, and both of our ladies seemed eager to begin this new adventure. Personally, I think they just liked to dress up in something different. I knew Janey loved cosplay, and I suspected Beth was developing an interest in it too.

Using his seemingly endless supply of hemp rope, Sam and I tied our co-authors to their writing stations. Sam tied Janey’s legs together and her torso to the wooden swivel chairs that found their way into the library, and I did the same thing to Beth. We kissed both of them and then decided to put Jimmy to use again as a pilot. Sam and I needed outfits for our parts in this adventure, and that meant a trip into his favorite tailor for period suits. To go with the long-tailed double-breasted jackets, we wanted spats, sword-canes, pocket watches, ascots, capes and top hats. I figured any excuse to hang out and not talk about horses was a good thing. When the women found out about this, they would love the effort. Besides, we both needed a break from the increasingly unhealthy influence of Pappy. 

Memphis was only about an hour away by helicopter, and we each got measured and fitted for three new period pieces and then went in search of our accessories. At Sam’s insistence, we even brought Jimmy along and outfitted him in an old-timey butler suit. Actually, he was once again invaluable by refining our choices to get just the right British gentleman’s look. 

Sam and I got a couple of old west outfits in addition to our more refined British attire. These outfits were the 19th century western imitations of the British styles of the times, and then we got some more rugged old-west garb to satisfy each side of our cowboy personas. Sam called his gun dealer back in Kentucky to get each of us the right holsters and six-shooters to round out the look. Non-firing replicas would not do. Sam wanted real revolvers for us to wear. We got western boots, silver inlaid boot knives, dusters, chaps, spurs, quirts and more appropriate Stetsons for the look. If we were going to do this, Sam was determined that we were going to do it right. While we were at it, we even got glue-on handlebar mustaches. Being efficient, Jimmy had our lady’s sizes, so we picked up some dancehall costumes for the two of them. I was surprised Sam didn’t buy a stagecoach to round out the look. It was still early though, and we were having fun hanging out. We stopped in and indulged in some Memphis BBQ, bringing back a couple of bottles so Pete could do some pulled pork sandwiches for all of us.

It was late by the time we got back, but our girls were still adding words to the pages of their new story. They seemed to be having a good time together, conspiring and lost in the world of Cecelia McGovern and her crime fighting endeavors. Signs that Pete had fed both of them food and more of the energy smoothies were evident, and we untied them to tell them all about our mission of acquisition. 

Sam’s tailor had assured him that our first two suits would not take long to put together, and that he’d overnight them as soon as he could sew them together for us. He’d sew them together for us quickly because Sam paid him well for his services. We figured the British role-play would happen tomorrow or the next day at the latest.

Back in our suite of rooms, Janey got gagged early when she tried to use her secret weapon to manipulate me to get me to play with Cecelia. I was surprisingly tired, and knew we’d be playing her games tomorrow, so after a blowjob, I prepared her for bedtime. I stripped her, gagged her with a wadding and tape, blindfolded her with a padded Lycra hood, and pulled her ankles up into a loose hogtie. Naked, I secured her to the bed and even tied her toes together. I cuddled and petted her until I passed out. Even exhausted, I felt her wriggling and bouncing around during the night and my mind smiled. 

When Sam called at the crack of dawn, he suggested a morning ride with a couple of abducted dancehall cuties. I laid out Janey’s outfit for this, put on my cowboy clothes, even gluing on my mustache and released her. When she saw me, Janey squealed in delight, threw her arms around me, smothered Bat Masterson in kisses and quickly got into her new clothes so we could play.

After breakfast, the four of us rode off before the sun got too hot. Sam and I looked the part, wearing western style boots, spurs, jeans, chaps, bib-shirts, leather vests, dusters and of course, our Stetsons. Even with our lack of six-shooters, we were prepared for the possible rattler by packing lever-action rifles in saddle holsters. Sam carried a .45/70 Henry rifle and I had one of his Winchester carbines from his collection. We were also packing bundles of hemp rope and bandanas in our saddlebags for our dancehall cuties.

Both of our women wore the waist-cinching bustiers and the frilly, open-fronted petticoat dresses popularized by Hollywood for the saloon look. They wore patterned hosiery attached to their bustiers and ankle boots with sensible three-inch curved French pegs rather than the higher stilettos we loved to see them wear. To add to the look, they wore black lacey fingerless sleeve-gloves that went up to their elbows and bows in their hair. Beth’s hair was once again piled up on top of her head in a bun, with strategically escaping tendrils of hair coming loose to emphasize her face and give her a bit of a wild look. Janey wore a small lady’s top hat that fit the style, with a long, wide ribbon for a hatband falling down her back like a ponytail. Both of them looked very sexy in the still, cool morning air.

When it was just the four of us, the ladies got down and we tied their arms. Typically, Janey’s elbows did not meet, but they were tied as tightly as her shoulders would allow. She smiled brightly and wriggled happily. Beth’s however went easily together behind her back, and I welded her forearms together, using single strand cinches and anchoring her arms to her torso, like I always did with Janey. After making out with our ‘captive saloon wenches’, we stuffed their mouths with cloth waddings and gagged each one of them with a bandana cleave gag when they giggled and playfully complained that our fake mustaches tickled. 

Sam helped me boost both of them back up on their horses and then he used his expertise to secure them in their saddles so they couldn’t fall out. He tied a saddle-cinch around each ankle and under the horse’s belly, and then shorter ropes tied their ankles to the stirrup. He tied ropes from each of their thighs to the saddle horn, and then around their waist and back to the saddle horns. Unless the horse started to violently buck, the women would stay in place as we led them around. Sam held Beth’s reins and I led Janey’s horse as we trotted around in a lonely pasture well away from prying eyes. Beth sat tall and straight in the saddle, but Janey, still a little unsure of herself wobbled a little, leaning to the extent of the ropes holding her in the saddle. 

Sam took several pictures of our bound captives up on their horses and we took even more pictures of each other posing with them using his cellphone camera. Not surprisingly, both were hams for our pictures.

Feeling dense, I finally figured out how Sam found me in the woods. He just tracked the phone in my pocket with his. Oh well. I’m glad he did.

By the time we got back to the ranch with our now unfettered captives, both were ready for their Victorian cosplay fun. Janey told us they needed this cosplay to really spark their imaginations for their new book. They’d let their cowboys have their fun during the morning, and after showers all around to wash the trail off of all four of us, the women were more than ready for the less rigorous cosplay to begin. 

Both of our women had gotten really sweaty from being rode hard, while we extracted our sexual due from our kidnapped dancehall girls. Excited by their look, we naturally laid our helplessly bound and gagged saloon wenches on blankets in the grass and had our way with them. Both looked too good for just a horse ride in the fields. Once the gags came out, Sam and I heard nothing but encouragement and not one complaint from them about being used like this. Well, that’s not completely accurate. Both still whined a little that the mustaches tickled when we kissed them. We could live with that.

“Bat,” whispered Beth conspiratorially, “You really were much skinnier when we were in high school, and back then that mustache just looked silly. Hell, you could barely grow it in, but now, well, you might want to consider it again. It kind of goes well with this whole cowboy thing you’ve got going on. It really doesn’t tickle all that much. Just a thought.”

I smiled and figured I’d give it some consideration. Janey giggled and smiled a lot when I dressed up like this, so I was pretty sure that I’d have her approval. I’d let my lip decide. I could always just glue on this fake one.

Sam and I both had to sign the government’s yellow slips for the guns when they were delivered by his dealer. Refusing to let me buy my own, Sam got me a double draw holster with a pair of blued Colt .45 Peacemakers. He got himself a .38cal Colt Lightning revolver in a cross-draw side holster and a smaller .41cal Colt ‘Thunderer’ revolver, with the bird’s head grips, to wear in a shoulder holster. Both were nickel plated, with simulated ivory handles. Sam said he was inspired by Doc Holiday’s choices in ‘Tombstone’. As we signed for these, I knew we’d be heading to his range fairly soon.

Once we’d changed into proper English gentlemen, and after we wiped the drool off the chins of our women, who fawned and gushed over how totally handsome we were like this, we started throwing out ideas for this new book. Laying our matching brass-handled sword canes against the bookshelf, we took off our white gloves, put them in our top hats and after checking our pocket watches we sat down to interview our librarians. 

In their new effort, Beth assumed the name of Olivia McGovern, the spinster maiden aunt that had just moved in with Cecelia after Cecelia’s close call with Rodney. She’d gotten a job at the library to watch over Cecelia and other than background for Olivia, who looked a lot like Beth, the women were stumped for an adventure for them to embark on together. Most of their prose up to this point had just explained who Olivia was, how she’d come to live with Cecelia and how she got her job at the library.

Playing on a similar theme, I suggested that even the super-sleuth Cecelia could be fooled with the right trappings and the proper disguises from some intelligent and unscrupulous scoundrels. After all, her crime fighting clues came from the books she read, and not from life experience. I laid out the scenario that Sam and I were actually the American cousins of Rodney, come for revenge against the woman that had put him in prison. Having been born and raised just outside of London, like Rodney, our accents were believable, but living our adult lives in the colonies gave us a hearty disdain for law and order. Being notorious bank and train robbers, we were now hiding out in the British Isles, and instead of joining our cousin in his crimes, we got here just in time to find him brutally incarcerated. Now we wanted our revenge.

Sam said we should probably be of Irish heritage to inspire a real hatred of the British. He suggested the women look up and belabor the squalled and horrid conditions of the jails and prisons of that time to add to the animosity against them by the Yanks. Sam also said that to add color to the story, the spinster Olivia should fall for the dashing and charming character he would portray, so that when he betrayed her love, she would feel even more anguish. Thinking about that, I said that it would make more sense for Cecelia to fall in love with his character for the dastardly revenge factor. Beth chimed in with the idea that one of us could charm the bloomers off of Cecelia, and the other could tease the spinster into something she never knew before. Lust for a man. 

Both of the women looked at each other, all wide-eyed, and Janey said, “We can work with that. Cecelia’s too beautiful to not have a man in her life, and the spinster doesn’t have to be an old spinster, just chaste.”

“This could alienate the town constables,” I added, “because ‘their’ Cecelia is choosing an outsider, rather than one of them. Jealousy is a powerful influencer. If she flaunts her new relationship with public displays of feminine interest in her new beau, then they will naturally back away from being her constant protectors, which were always just a ruse to be near her anyway. That way, when our scoundrels abduct the two women, their protectors won’t be around to save them. This is obviously another excuse for Cecelia to be a Damsel in Distress again. Can your audience handle this change in direction for these proper and prim Victorian ladies?”

Beth nodded enthusiastically, saying, “As an avid fan I’d love to see our Cecelia take this new direction in her life. This will add real spice and new life into her adventures. We can build it around Cecelia’s strong points of crime fighting, through educated knowledge, but also give it a twist I’m sure other readers will just eat up.” 

“Oh, Sir, I love your imagination,” exclaimed Janey. “Yours too Sam. You’re practically writing the story for us. Please tie us tightly to our chairs so that we can get started.”

“Gee, twist my arm,” I said, and laughed.

As we left, they were happily chattering away about 90 miles per hour, smiling and thoroughly enjoying this shared adventure. Leg bound and webbed to their wooden chairs they seemed happy as their fingers flew across the keyboards trying to put all their new ideas into some kind of a readable format.

In the kitchen waiting for Pete to make the first round of energy smoothies for them, Sam looked at me and said, “I think they just like to dress up and pretend.”

“Ya’ think? And they’re happy as pigs in the mud that we’re dressing up too. I know Janey loves cosplay, and Beth seems to be enjoying herself too.”

“Yea! Did you notice that she’s actually wearing a corset today? She never wears corsets, or heels for that matter. You and Janey are definitely a bad influence on her buddy. Keep it up. I like it,” and he laughed.

Sam took in both of their frosty mugs and I brought in the blender to top them off as soon as they downed the first half in one long gulp. We nuzzled their necks, squeezed some tit and when we got no response from them, we knew they were in the zone and that other than window dressing, our presence was superfluous. 

“Okay,” Sam said, “I’m kind of liking this cosplay stuff. We’ve already got the old west and this Victorian schtick covered. Naturally, the equestrian angle is something the girls like. What do you want to steer them into next?”

“‘Business executives and their slutty secretaries’ is a no brainer.”

“Naturally, what else?”

“Pirates. Not the Somali or Indonesian types of today, but the buccaneers of yesteryear, with the three pointed hats, the eye patches so they could keep their night vision when they went below decks, the long coats, a saber, a bracer of flintlock pistols and the whole kidnapping the governor’s haughty daughter, and her cute little maid, and holding them for ransom while we have our way with them. Lots of costume choices there.” 

“I could get into that. What about Nazi generals and the French women of the resistance that they’re keeping in their headquarters?”

“Uh, personally I have problems with that genre, but we could pretend to be pompous and uniformed despots from some small country abusing the peasant girls, or maybe the foreign reporters for our amusement. Gaudy and pretentious paramilitary uniforms would fit right in with that scenario and should impress the womenfolk. Shorts and safari jackets or peasant rag-dresses are all about the same for these sorts of things. Once we cut their clothes off of them, what they were wearing beforehand won’t really matter. After all, we’re just amusing ourselves, and we want to tie them up, beat them into submission and have sex with them no matter what they’re wearing.”

“You know, thinking about it, back to the business executive thing, I’ve always had fantasies of stringing up some damned lawyer, right there in the boardroom, and beating her like some unwanted redheaded step-child, just because she was a lawyer. That fantasy has given me a stiffy during several negotiations I’ve had to be a part of.”

“Again, a no brainer. I’ve been on the wrong end of a couple of well-kept lawyers wearing more than I made in six months, making my life much less comfortable for their client. You just wanted to string them up and beat them. I pictured their heads in reticles.”

“Knowing you, I can see that. I’m kind of surprised you didn’t suggest water-boarding them.”

“Now I’m getting a stiffy,” and we both laughed.

“Maybe it’s too soon for this, but what do you think of revamping Beth’s career as a fetish model. I still have every one of your videos with her, and many of them were righteously hot. Incendiary hot. Admittedly we haven’t watched them in a long while, but the way things are improving around here I’ve been getting ideas. Look at these pictures I took earlier with her tied up on the back of that horse. The camera still loves her. She’s still very fit and looking good. Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to publish any of these new efforts, but none of us are getting any younger. Personally, I’d like to sit back in my rocker, sipping twenty-year-old Pappy that hasn’t even been distilled yet, and look at pictures and videos of Beth when she still looked hot and desirable. That’s one of my ideas for growing old gracefully. Around you, Beth is being more feminine, and with her new little buddy right there to compete against, well I think this would be fun.”

I went over to his liquor cabinet, opened it up with my thumb print, poured each of us a glass of Blanton’s and handed Sam his before sitting down.

“Have you discussed this with Beth yet?”

“No, but I’ve noticed a real difference in her since you’ve been back around. Different from when you just breezed in here for a day or so, before. Janey is giving her someone to compete against. That’s making the difference.”

“You think so?”

“You’ve seen the two of them together. Janey has taken the sexual tension out of the equation between all of us, and now that you’ve forgiven Beth, she’s more...”

“Feminine? You know, I can see that too. She definitely still looks good. Her belly is flat and firm. Her legs have lost none of their allure. She’s got new tits that are back to being perky, and her face is still very pretty. Even her ass still looks good. She’s definitely aging well. Better than you or me. And you’re right. Looking at these snapshots, the camera still loves her. Why don’t we do a test run? You and I can play the parts of competing executives. Janey can be the slutty secretary that’s all tits, hips and giggles. Beth can be the ball-busting lawyer. I could tie Janey up to keep her from calling the police, and you could string Beth up and beat her like lawyers should be beat. We could set up enough remote cameras to get every conceivable angle, and then edit them into a production later. She’ll naturally demure away from this, saying she’s not as young as she used to be, and therefore not as pretty, but it will be up to you to convince her that this video is for your own private amusement, especially in your declining years, and that it will never be seen outside of our little family. You are the one that’s going to have to sell this to her.”

Out of the blue, Jimmy, who had been standing behind us chimed in.

“Sir, it’s not like you’re fooling any of the household staff. For years we’ve seen the missus when she still had rope marks on her wrists, or when she sat down very carefully in a chair. We’re glad that you’re both still in love with each other, enough so that you’re not sneaking strangers in here all the time and tearing the household apart with tawdry affairs. That means a lot to a staff, whether you realize it or not Sir. Carlotta quietly picks up your toys and takes them back to your room. Pete takes in smoothies to those Victorian ladies when they can’t get up and get their own because they’re tied to the chairs. We all support you and the missus and none of us care. You pay us well, treat us all like family, never yell at us for our mistakes, and we, all of us, love you for that. I may not be a cinematographer, but with the right self-stabilizing camera, I could get just the right angles for your video. Add in the edited angles from the stationary cameras and you could have a really professional looking production of your games with your ladies. I would be honored to help you with a project like this, and my discretion would be assured.”

Both of us smiled, a little glassy-eyed and thanked him for confirming the staff’s acceptance, after telling him that we accepted his gracious offer. 

“Jimmy,” said Sam. “Make it happen. Do some research and get us a good video camera for close-up work and also get us some stationary cameras. For now, we’ll set them up in the basement. I want to see if the camera still loves my Beth. Bat, you gotta’ do the rigging, like you used to and we’ll see if her image still has what it takes to put a smile on my face. In person, Beth still puts a smile on my face, but I want to see what she looks like to the camera.”

I got up and wandered back into their library and just stared at the women for a while. Sam followed, curious, but quiet. Eventually going back outside I poured us more Blanton’s and Sam and I started walking aimlessly.

“Sam, I’ve had an idea banging around in my head, and I think it’s time to share it with you.”

“What’s on your mind buddy?”

“Looking at our women getting along so well leads me to believe that if this novel they’re writing is successful, which I have no reason to believe it wouldn’t be, then they’ll want to write another one.”

“That’s not a stretch. I’ve thought about that too since they got together.”

“So, 150 odd miles between us would make their collaborations difficult at best, so what would you and Beth think about the two of us moving a little closer? We could find a place together somewhere around here.”

“I’ve already told you that you can have the suite you’re staying in now. Beth would be fine with that. Will Janey?”

“I don’t know. Being a nomad, you know I rent the home I’m living in, and Janey has her doublewide in that little trailer park.”

“I know all about your situation. I own the shell corporation that rents you your house. I’ve been your landlord since you moved back to Kentucky?”

“Just how rich are you?”

“I have way more money than I know what to do with it. All of my family, parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles were wealthy in their own right, and with many of them dying off and leaving their money and estates to me, well, I’m just stupid-rich. I thought you knew what my family was worth?”

“I never cared. I hung out with you because I like you. You’re my oldest and best friend and we forged our personal unbreakable bond in the dojo. I knew you were way richer than I was, but I got by and really didn’t care. Not being avaricious has given me a certain personal freedom and peace of mind. I get a disability pension from my service in the Army, and dividends from some investments I made and that takes care of my needs. I even occasionally get a royalty check from the work Beth and I did. It’s never much, but it makes me smile knowing that some guy is still whacking off to images of Beth all tied up.”

“So, what do you want my friend? You want a plot of land and a house built to your specifications? Done. I can do that out of petty cash. I already own the land, and the construction company I own will build anything I want them to build on that land. You want the suite I offered you or would you like me to build a whole new wing on my house for you and Janey. Done. You are the only friend I have that loves me for me, and not my money. Janey is a delight to be around, and the two of you seem to be really good for one another. I have no doubt that she loves you, and like you said, she and Beth are going to be thick as thieves writing these books. Beth’s needed a hobby for a while now. She likes her horses, but there’s more to life than just riding. I’m just tickled she hasn’t developed any nasty habits that are unhealthy for her. Me, I avoid getting lost in my business ventures by hiring the best managers I can and then delegating everything to them. Making my money make more money is not how I want to live my life. I have money. More than I know what to do with, so I’ll do whatever I have to do to hang around with my oldest and best friend, you.”

“Okay then, it’s settled in my mind. I’m moving in with you and Beth.”

“Talk to Janey. Hell, we’ll gang up on her. If I really have to, I’ll buy the damned publishing company out from under whoever owns it now and I’ll publish the adventures she and Beth write, with more publicity than she’s ever known. That’ll put her in every bookstore in the free world. Her words, no, not just her’s, ‘their’ words will be translated into all the major languages. The world will know who they are. That’s what money is for.”

I laughed and poured us some more bourbon, because in our wanderings we’d found ourselves back on the patio. Taking our drinks in with us, we went into the library. Sam pulled Janey’s chair away from the desk and pushed it on its rollers over to me. Then with Beth looking over her shoulder, he pulled her chair around and knelt down in front of her. Her face showed that she had no idea what was going on and she just stared at Sam. When she smiled and touched the side of his head, he started to talk to her. 

“Beth, Jimmy just paid me the most amazing compliment. No, that’s not right. He paid ‘us’ that amazing compliment. It hit me over my thick head with a reality club and woke me up to something I should have been telling you every single day since we got married. I love you, and I love that you have been my slave-wife since we broke Bat’s heart years ago.”

“I love you too, Sammy,” she said, pulling him closer because she couldn’t lean in towards him. Petting his head with both of her hands, she said “I probably always have, even when I was with Bat. Bat and I were great together, but you always had that corner of my heart with the love in it.”

Looking over at me she said, “Bat, I love you too, but in a different way. Our love was raw, emotional and on fire, but we never would have lasted this long. Not the way that my Sammy and I have lasted.”

“I know that now,” I said. “It took me a while to accept it, but I get it now. Anyway, go on. Tell her Sam.”

“Jimmy told me that the staff here loves us because we still love each other enough not to tear this household apart with tawdry affairs. He said that that meant a lot to not only the people working for us, but to any household staff. That never dawned on me before, and I’ve been taking you for granted. Sure, I like playing with you on a regular basis, but I don’t think I tell you often enough how special you are to me. This whole thing with Bat has been an eye-opener for me. I need both of you in my life, especially you. I don’t know any other way to tell you. I love you. Always have and always will.”

Both of the women were weeping silent tears and smiling brightly.

“Now it’s my turn,” I said. “Janey, you excite the hell out of me, and I want you in my life for at least as long as these two have been together. I want to tie you up, make you dress up for me, and I want to give you the slow-pain that you seem to thrive on. You know that Sam is my best friend, and Beth is the ex I just can’t live without, as a friend, not as a lover. Sure, I love her, but not like I love you. I want to be with you, and I also want to be with these two, too, even if they smell of horses all the time,” and I chuckled.

“At any rate, I’ve decided to move in with them, at least until Sam can have a house built for me. When it’s done, I want you to move in with me, here. I want you as ‘my’ slave-wife. Actually, I want to just lock you away in the suite we’re in right now. I could just tie you up, gag you and only let you out to write your book with Beth, but I really want you to join me of your own accord. You are the type of submissive that I’ve wanted for a long time, and you make me happy. Stay with me please. Let me keep tying you until you’re elbows flop together behind your back like Beth’s do. That may take a while, but we’ll work on it. I promise. Just you and me. I want to spend a lot of time with my best friends, and I want to share that time with you here with us. Sam and I will give you guys storylines, and inspire you with roleplay for your books, but I want to keep you bound and gagged for my pleasure. I know this sounds like a lot of ‘I wants’, but I’m just laying this all out for you. So, do I have to kidnap you, or will you stay with me and help me plan the house we’re going to live in for probably the rest of my life?”

“Well,” she said, drawing each word out, “if you were to grow a big bushy ‘stash’, and wear that Stetson more often, I think I could hang around with you, and these two for a while. How long did you say? For the rest of your life? That sounds about right,” and she squealed. “Of course, I’ll be your slave-wife, silly. I decided that I was going to keep you when you tied me up to that pole for the first time. If living here means getting tied up all the time, well, I’m in. I’m all in. Beth is my new bestie, and my co-author for this book and many more to come, and I like sucking Sam’s cock. He tastes good. I’m selling my soul today, and I’m giving you first crack at it, so, where do I sign in blood?”

“Okay then,” said Sam. “Now that we got that settled, let’s fill you two in on what else the two of us have been thinking about. Beth, you’re going to be a model again. Bat’s going to be your rigger, like he used to be. He’s better at ropes than I am. I’m going to be the one that beats you. This is all for our own private amusement. Janey, you’re going to be in our home movies, too. We’re going to script these videos and turn them into elaborate and professional productions. You two can either help us plan these videos and write the dialog, or you can leave it up to us. We would prefer you two as active participants, but we can always just tie you up, gag you and do what we want with you. No one will see these videos, except us. Well, maybe after all four of us are dead, whoever gets the estate might want to share them with the rest of the world, but for now, Bat and I just want something to watch when the two of you are off on your book signing tours. So, are you going to be active or passive participants in ‘our’ new hobby? What do you say? Are you in or out?”

“You see Janey, neither one of them fights fair, or gives a girl even the slightest chance. They tell us they love us, get us all weepy and gooey inside and then they drop this bomb on us. So, what should we wear for them?”

“I don’t know. My Sir usually tells me what he wants to see me wear for him, and I just put it on. That saves me a lot of time trying to decide what will make him happy when he looks at me. I used to worry about making the right decision with what I wore. Now he takes all the guesswork out of it for me. What kind of dialog should we write for them?”

“They’re probably going to want sex during these videos, so we’ll have to come up with things like, ‘Oooh baby, ahhh.”

“You think that will keep them happy?”

“No, but that will get us gagged, and we won’t have to remember our lines then,” said Beth.

“Bat, she wants a beating already.”

“So, don’t give her what she wants until she runs her lines perfectly, and to your satisfaction.”

“You see Janey,” Beth said. “They just don’t play fair. What are we going to do with them?”

“Love them with all of our hearts and do anything we can to make them the happiest men in the world. Maybe they’ll keep us then.”

“Alright ladies,” I asked, “Any ideas for our cosplay videos?”

Janey shocked all of us when she said, “If I’m going to be beat, along with my sister slave-wife, I want to play a nun, getting tied up and beat with one of those eighteen-inch rulers.”

Sam looked at me all wide-eyed and excitedly said, “We can get those long black cassocks and those silly hats the priests wear. We’ll wear those inverted collars and we can make our nuns break their vows of chastity, using them the way nuns should be used. Heresy and sacrilege, I love it.” 

Laughing I said, “Okay, done deal. What else ladies?”

“Kidnapped lounge singers,” said Beth. “I always wanted an excuse to wear one of those long, glittery and slinky dresses from the 20s or 30s, slit up the thigh and showing a lot of leg as I sing on stage and then have the gangsters break into the speak-easy and kidnap me to force the boss into something he doesn’t want to do. Want to be my back-up singer Janey?”

“That sounds like fun,” and she giggled. “And in that genre, maybe we could be the hapless secretaries of a couple of gumshoe detectives, that get kidnapped to stop our fearless detectives from testifying against Mr. Big.”

“I always wanted an excuse to get a Tommy-gun. Now I can get two,” exclaimed Sam. “You know we’re going to have to get some extra storage for all of these costumes we’ll be wearing.”

“Oh Sammy, just build us a big-box studio for the costumes and props. We’ve got plenty of land, and if we’re going to do this, we might as well do it right. Bat, you remember those photographer’s studios we used to rent, with all the furniture and fake stage settings. They were all so cheesy, but they made good backgrounds for the videos we made. Janey, all they were was an empty warehouse with movable walls on one side of the building, and an adjacent warehouse full of furniture and props that they could move in and out for whatever setting the photographers wanted. You know, like office settings, different living rooms, doctor’s offices, and settings like that. They shot a lot of pornos in those studios.”

“Doctor’s offices,” Janey exclaimed. “I’ve imagined being tied to the examination table in a gynecologist’s office a couple of times and getting a thorough examination.”

“You nasty little pervert. I love it,” I said. “I saw a picture from the 60s or 70s one time, with a very pretty blond tied up, gagged and bent over a gyno-table, and the expression on her face as she waited for her fate was so damned hot. I can just imagine you like that.”

“I think I’d really like to reproduce that image in your mind, Sir.”

Just then Jimmy showed up at the door.

“Sir, I’m about to drive into town to pick up those cameras and an editing station. Is there anything else you’d like me to get while I’m out?”

“No, I think we’re good for now.”

“Sir, may I make a suggestion?”


“It sounds to me like you’re diving into the deep end with all of your cosplay projects. Is that a fair guess?”

“Yea. Do you have an idea that will help us with our efforts?”

“Sir, I know a seamstress that’s barely making it and she’s looking at other jobs because she’s just not bringing in enough with her sewing. I know she’s talented, and if you’re serious about putting together an extensive wardrobe of special costumes, I could arrange for her to come by for an interview and show you some of her previous pieces. If you like her work, she would be excited and grateful to earn her living at what she loves to do, which is sewing. Putting her on retainer, and then paying her by the pieces she’d produce would offer you a reliable source of made-to-order costumes for your play and for your videos.”

“Can she be discreet?”

“Sir, even though I believe she would be discreet, she doesn’t have to know the full extent of your adventures. Many of the costumes you’ve talked about could also be used for little-theater. And with a steady paycheck, she wouldn’t ask many questions, lest she lose the job she’s always wanted since she was in design school. Before you ask, a family medical problem kept her from graduating, and she’s been lost and wandering aimlessly since her mother died. Something like this might focus her again. Should I set up an interview?”

Beth looked at Jimmy and said, “Call her. Right now, and see if she’s hungry enough to take an impromptu interview with no prep time. Tell her you’re bringing over two women that might hire her as a full-time seamstress and that we don’t have all day. We’ll go into town with you for this meeting. Neither of us have tell-tale rope marks on us, and this will be a good test to see what she’s like under the gun. You with me Janey?”

“Lead on my sister, lead on.”

“I wanted to do a little shopping anyway, so we’ll kill two birds with one trip. Is this okay with you, Sammy?”

“Well hell. Now who am I going to tie up,” he asked laughing, and went to find more bourbon?


Continues in

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